


Sain Clare Academy

by MaetheEllen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Academy, Angst, Assassin - Freeform, Emotional Constipation, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, LGBT, Lesbian Sex, Smut, Supergay, a lot of hurt first, agegap, duchess - Freeform, duke - Freeform, grappling with the horrid reality of being known, heavyangst, noble, slowburn, the smut is in chapter 13 you sinners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaetheEllen/pseuds/MaetheEllen
Summary: When Professor Morgan Eclaire is tasked to go undercover at her own school, she knows it won't be easy. She has a long list of dangers ahead of her: blending in with the students, evading the mysterious someone intent on taking away her life, trying not to fall in love with Duke Belloway's daughter, who she has sworn to hate until the day she dies...This might be even harder than she first thought.ORa teacher caught up in an inheritance war falls for the duke's daughter
Kudos: 1





	1. mercy and strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Morgan gets caught up in an inheritance war and the magnetism of the duke's daughter.

  
_"There is strength in mercy, my daughter. Please remember that."_

  
_I scoffed, tears streaming burning trails down my trembling face; how naive I was to believe in those words. I touched my hands to my face, softly, and though they were clean it felt as if I would smear every surface I touched with blood._

  
_In his last moments, even he had renounced them._

  
_Giving kindness to such a cruel world would return nothing but pain and betrayal._

  
_There is no strength in mercy._

  
...

  
In the heart of the strongest empire on the planet rested its biggest wildcard: Sain Clare Academy.  
The instructors of the Academy were renowned: though hardly one in a million people were born with magic, more than half of those who taught at Sain Clare could use some form of it. They were excellent in all ways-- brilliant fighters, tacticians, and educators. To be able to enroll was considered an honor, but to be an instructor was a dream few could achieve.

  
Still, magic's rarity dictated that little over 1/100th of the student body could use a form of magic. Because of this, education was divided: the magic sector, which taught a strong magic curriculum, the fighter's sector, which taught a variety of weapon and hand to hand combat, and the academic sector, which primarily focused in academics. Of course, a student from the magic sector could dip into all three-- taking both an axe course and a history course: in fact, this was quite common. However, instructors reserved the right to choose who could enroll and many would only allow cross-dipping if scores in those disciplines were high enough.  
This was exactly why I was so baffled by the girl in front of me-- the duke's daughter, Grace Belloway. She had come requesting to enroll in one of my courses, an intermediate healing class. I had been preparing myself to smile softly and turn Grace away when she presented me with a paper scoring of the midterm exam all students had to take once every semester.

  
The midterm exam existed purely quantitatively-- it tested in three disciplines, magic, fighting, and academics. Of course, a swordsman was sure to fail the magic section so the school allowed class rank to be calculated only by main academic discipline. If one was in the academic sector, their magic and fighter's scores didn't count and vice versa.  
It was extremely hard to cross-dip into a magic class, as most students who focused in academic or fighter's sectors had no magic to speak of. If they did, it was usually extremely weak. This was why I had been preparing to turn Grace Belloway down.

  
Instead, my hands trembled as I grasped the midterm score results in both hands. To be truthful, any score above 40 in a sector that was not primary was impressive. Grace Belloway had managed to get above a 40 in every single test she had taken.

  
_Grace Belloway, Fighter Sector._   
_Academic scores: Average score, 75 out of 100_   
_Fighting scores: Average score, 94 out of 100_   
_Magic scores: Average score, 41 out of 100_

  
The scores broke down further, distinguishing between history and science, ax-wielding and hand-to-hand. It was why, though her sword-fighting skill scored a terrifying 99 out of 100, the average was lower. To be truthful, even when testing for your primary sector to get above 70 was praiseworthy.   
Sain Clare was known for its rigorous and difficult testing. 

  
I focused on the magic section specifically. It seemed like she wasn't very adept across the board, scoring a resounding 0 on most elements, but she had a high score in fire magic. Which just so happened to be the second strongest element, after water, when it came to healing.

  
"Would you allow me to enroll, professor? They told me I had to get explicit permission from the professor in charge if I wanted to get into a magic class," her clear voice told me. I handed the paper back to her, rubbing my eyes with a hand.

  
"Yes, everything looks fine. I'll let them know." Her smile was blinding. For an 18-year-old kid, she had a rather mature demeanor.  
"Thank you, Professor," she said, staring at me a bit too long before she turned away.

  
I watched after her, her unusual long white hair-- which all of her siblings shared, as well-- moving in waves after her as she walked away.  
Grace Belloway-- one of the strongest swordsmen in the Fighting Sector, as well as my new assignment.

_Hours before._

"Professor Eclaire! A pleasure to see you again." A large hand beckoned me forward, and I smiled apprehensively as I approached.

  
"The pleasure is mine, Principal," I greeted. He smiled impishly, leaning forward on his elbows and gesturing for me to sit down.

  
"Please sit. I assume you know why you're here?" Straight to business, as usual.

  
"Yes, sir. I heard that Duke Belloway had an assignment for me," I stated, slowly, measuring every word before it came out. Truthfully, it was a bit peculiar to get a request from the Duke like this. Though professors held an esteemed status in the empire, it was highly unusual to be acquainted with royalty.

  
"Indeed: he wants you to investigate his daughters, Grace and Anna Belloway, and his son Annakin Belloway to see who is most suited for inheriting the duchy."  
I smiled bitterly. The Duke's cruelty surely held no bound, tasking me with something like this. Mocking me with something like this. 

  
"...So just Grace and Annakin, you mean." It was widely known that Anna Belloway wasn't suited for the title, nor did she seem to have the interest. As Annakin's twin, she seemed to be supporting his inheritance instead. The principal laughed loudly.

  
"Ha! Blunt as always, I see."

  
"Of course, Principal," I replied, shifting in my seat uncomfortably, trying to hide my distaste. Somehow, a feeling of dread had begun to settle. "What is it that you need me to do?" A short silence swept the room, the principal's light smile uncanny, before he began to speak again.

  
"There's no doubt Grace and Annakin will become aware that you are the selector soon. They both have spies planted throughout the Academy," he started. I caught my breath.

  
"Ah," I said, my smile growing more strained by the second. Of course he would do this to me. The next words he spoke slipped over me easily; they had been what I was expecting, after all. Not that I was happy about it.

"We need you to go undercover as a student at the Academy."

...

I hadn't worn Sain Clare's renowned uniform in years-- I had graduated top of my class over 5 years before, recruited immediately into the institution's instruction crew because of my skill. I had gone through the magic sector, back then, which was exactly why I was so screwed now.

The Belloway family was known for their swordsmanship, which meant I needed to be enrolled in the fighter's sector in order to monitor them. I was able to wield a sword-- I had made it a point to enroll myself in classes from all three sectors-- but sword alone I was hardly good enough to pass convincingly.

It was customary for seniors to carry a weapon on them at all times. As both proof of status-- the school revolved around a hierarchy system, where your first two years you basically served beneath the juniors and seniors-- and for protection, it was practically taboo not to carry. I didn't like the feeling of having such a heavy object strapped to me at all times as a mage who didn't need such things for self-defense, but I would stand out too much if I opted not to have one. 

I grabbed my sword, a silvery number that curling designed etched into it, perfect for engraining spells into the material, and glanced into the mirror at my side. My normally thin, strawberry blond hair was smooth and black, mature face transformed into a cute, childish one thanks to a glamour spell. It was draining, but I had enough power to use it for hours at a time. As long as I didn't exceed 4 hours with it on, I would be fine.

Still, I was sure I would be the subject of attention. From my experience new students always were. I would need to blend in.

It was odd to pass through the hallways without the occasional student greeting me; even more peculiar to be called 'Olivia' rather than 'Professor Eclaire' or 'Morgan.' I touched my face self consciously. The name 'Olivia' suited my appearance.

I hurried to my first class, advanced swordsmanship, clutching my weapon and hoping it wasn't as hard as the title suggested. It would be odd if, as a senior, I wasn't in an advanced fighting class; still, the highest class I had taken in school was intermediate swordsmanship. I hoped I would remember how to properly fight after 5 years.

I hurried into the classroom. I wasn't accustomed to the newest rules, but from what I knew these classes upheld strict discipline. I was pretty sure the professor knew I was undercover, or would at least recognize my magical signature, but I didn't want to take my chances and get kicked out of class the very first day. I hoped at least that they wouldn't recognize my magic, because I had worked hard to hide it-- now, only the most practiced mage would be able to recognize any magic swirling around me, and only those intimately familiar with me would be able to recognize me as the magic's master.

Five minutes before the start of class, I entered, noticing all of the students scrambling to get into formation before the professor entered. I hurried into the mass, situating myself the appropriate spacing away and holding myself at attention, my sword at my hip.

A quiet settled over the classes the professor entered, and it was only then who I realized was standing next to me. By some stroke of luck, I had fallen into formation next to Grace Belloway-- I could feel her mana radiating next to me even though my eyes were caged forward. In fact, I recognized quite a few students here-- Annakin and Anna were here, too, though closer to the back.

The professor's eyes trailed over the students, stopping on me. Recognition flashed through his eyes.

"You," he pointed at me.

"Yes, sir," I answered, though it felt weird to respond to someone like him so politely. I felt a wave of uneasiness cross the class at my reply. He paused, looking like he was restraining a smile.

"' _Yes_ ' what?" He boomed, and I wracked my mind to try to figure out what I had done wrong. Five years ago, we called the professors 'sir' when called upon. Had something changed?

"Professor Thurman, may I make a statement?" Grace Belloway's voice rang out from beside me. 

"Go ahead," the professor allowed.

"This student is new to our academy-- therefore, she may not be acquainted with our customs." the professor crossed his arms, stopping to stand in front of us.

"I presume you are Olivia Denton, correct?" I paused; she had called him professor, not sir.

"Yes... Professor Thurman," I replied. Oh, I would so get him for this later. I had known Professor Thurman for years. Though I knew that he couldn't afford to give me special treatment, couldn't be a bad example in front of all his students, he was the one who had called me out in the first place, the bastard. 

"Correct. You catch on quickly." He turned to the rest of the students-- 15 eyes stared forward perfectly, unwavering. "Students, be at ease. Olivia, introduce yourself." Like that, they all relaxed, curiously shooting glances my way. Professor Thurman locked eyes with me, nodding. I sighed.

"My name is Olivia Denton. It's a pleasure to meet you." I heard whispers proliferate around me. It wasn't surprising; these kids had grown up with each other for the past four years. It was exceptionally rare for someone to transfer in, especially at the senior level.

This would make things difficult.


	2. grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which she grapples with a loss of power.

I scanned the room, pausing uncomfortably when I noticed Grace staring at me silently, her eyes flickering between the professor and me. I shifted uncomfortably. Although I was sure that my disguise as Olivia Denton was perfect, I still needed to make sure I stayed out of the spotlight as much as possible.

That would be hard, knowing my track record when I was a student. Morgan Eclaire had a... reputation, back then. 

"...Now then, let's get started. Get to it-- two laps!" Ah, this I was more familiar with. My professor when I was in school mandated two warm-up laps, as well. It's probably where Professor Thurman had gotten the idea from-- he had been in the same class as me. 

I got myself into a steady jog, correcting my speed so it was right around where everyone else's was. I didn't suck at running, but without magic, I was rather slow.

"Olivia," came a voice from beside me. I turned, smile plastering itself on my face before I saw who it was.

Grace.

"Ah, hello," I greeted. She stared forward as we ran. "It's nice to meet you. Thank you for helping out, earlier." She glanced away briefly, and I wondered if she wasn't used to being thanked.

A girl with a brown ponytail slowed, jogging at a steady pace next to me. She was joined by a girl with a bob haircut.

"You must have come from a pretty strict school, huh? Your language, 'it's a pleasure to meet you,' and calling the Professor 'sir' and all that was cool," she grinned, hopping into our conversation. The girl next to her nodded enthusiastically.

"Where did you come from?" She asked.

Hmm, this was something I could tease Thurman about later. Not being super hard on his kids, was he? The discipline I had gone through when I was in school was inane compared to this-- not that Thurman cut anyone any slack. He just seemed... closer to his students. 

"I was actually homeschooled, I transferred here on a scholarship," I replied, the lie coming easily to my lips. The girls' eyes widened.

"Wha-at, really? I didn't know you could do that!" The ponytail girl said.

"You must be, like, really smart then?" The bobbed girl spoke. I smiled sheepishly.

"Ah, thanks," I said awkwardly, not really knowing how to reply. The two girls began to talk amongst themselves as we ran, and I sunk into a comfortable silence next to Grace.

"That's right, Grace," I remembered my mission, to get to know the Belloway kids. She turned her face imperceptibly toward me.

"Yes?"

"Uh." Shoot, I hadn't thought of what to say. I was an adult trying to act like a teenager-- even though I was hardly 23, it felt weird. I opened my mouth to say something, and at my silence she fully turned her head. 

My breath was knocked out of me when I noticed the startling blue of her eyes, so crystal I was surprised I hadn't spotted it at all before. To be honest, I hadn't noticed anything about her appearance beside her long, silver hair. It's beauty glared at me every time I caught sight of it; a mocking symbol. 

Seeing her now, face slightly red from exertion, I realized how popular she probably was.

_Get ahold of yourself, Morgan-- don't let a kid knock you off your feet_. Right. I was an adult.

To my surprise, she cracked a smile. From all of the reports I had been given, she was a quiet, intimidating presence and wasn't seen to smile or goof off at all in the classroom. A perfect student, a perfect soldier.

"I'm sorry," I bit my lip, slowing my pace as we reached the end of the final lap, "I forgot what I was going to say." She regarded me again, though this time, instead of an impassable wall, I could read genuine curiosity in her eyes.

"...That's alright," she replied as we finally stopped. 

"Olivia!" I heard the girl with the bobbed hair call, just as I was looking around trying to figure out where to go. It looked like everyone was getting into groups. "Come join up with us!"

"Yeah, okay," I called back, eyes flickering back to Grace as I moved. She had already left, joining her siblings to form a group. I noticed there was tension between them, Anna standing closely next to Annakin yet refusing to look at Grace. I felt a shiver work its way down my spine when he turned to make eye contact with me, winking. Grace followed his eyes, but I was pulled away before I could see anything more.

"Olivia," the ponytail girl said, "I'm glad you joined our group." I laughed lightly.

"No, I appreciate you offering-- I was worried I would be left alone or something, it seems like everyone's already got their cliques." The ponytail girl clicked her tongue.

"That's true. It would have been bad if you'd joined with them," she pointed to a group of guys in the corner of the room, "or them... not that it's likely they would have offered." This time, her finger moved to point at Grace and her siblings.

"You seem to get along with Grace," the bobbed girl noted, "I've never even seen her smile before. Have you known each other long?" The girl with the ponytail's eyes widened.

"She _smiled_? That Grace?" She seemed baffled. The girl with a bob nodded vigorously. I got the impression they liked to gossip.

"I know! It was so crazy," she noted. I bit my lip as they spoke animatedly with each other, realizing I didn't know their names.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked this earlier, but what are your names?" I cut in. The girl with a bob cut blinked, a bit taken aback.

"Oh shoot, I totally forgot about that. I'm May," she told me, grinning widely.

"I'm Elizabeth, but you can call me Liz if you want," the girl with the ponytail let me know.

"It's nice to meet you guys." They smiled back, and for not the first time I felt as if this whole undercover thing was going to be difficult. No matter how much I pretended, I was still an adult and hadn't talked to anyone so casually in years. "So, what was it you said before about the groups I was lucky not to be paired with?" It was also good to collect more information to make sure I didn't blow my cover. Also, I was curious about what they thought of the Belloway kids.

"Well..." Elizabeth whispered conspiratorily, gesturing to the group of male students she had pointed out earlier, "those guys--"

"Alright! We're going to start with some sparring. Everyone should be in a group of three-- get in pairs and rotate every 5 minutes. The odd person out can be the judge," Professor Thurman's voice cut in.

...

"I'll spar Olivia first!" May offered, her hand stretching into the air. Elizabeth glared at her.

"May, she's new, don't make her go first," she scolded.

"Ah, right, sorry," May apologized meekly.

"Olivia," the professor started as he approached us, "because you're new I'll allow you to sit out this first round. You two, spar each other. Take breaks as you need, but know that I'll be watching you." It was almost comical how their faces tensed when he arrived, though obviously in respect rather than fear. Or maybe a little fear. 

"Yes, professor!" They said in unison. May's voice, elevated, cracked a little at the end, and she flushed red. Professor Thurman and I pretended not to notice.

"Olivia, come with me."

"Yes, professor," I repeated, internally holding back laughter. From the corner of the room, I noticed Grace watching me walk away with the professor. Involuntarily, I found my eyes flickering to her silver hair, its color in the soft light a silent reminder. 

"I heard about it from the principal," Thurman let me know as he led me to the corner of the room. I watched the students spar each other, the smell of sweat and cry of steel meeting steel oddly nostalgiac.

"Yes... professor," I replied, biting my lip to keep from smiling. Humor twinkled in his eyes.

"My Goddess, Morgan, you're gonna make me blow your cover," he commented, bringing a hand to his mouth. I wiggled my eyebrows, tipping my head toward May and Elizabeth.

"They seem pretty scared of you. Tough guy, are we?" He actually let out a chuckle at that before stopping himself.

"Nowhere as crazy as that old man you and I learned from. You remember him, don't you? Always made us call him sir. Smiling was a mortal sin to that man." Now it was my turn to try not to laugh.

"I remember, I remember. Good old Professor Chester-- he was a hell of a swordsman."

"That he was," Thruman agreed. A reminiscent pause filtered between us, and I smiled at the memory of the now-imposing Thurman struggling to yell loud enough in class and being forced to repeat the swordsman's creed again and again until his vocal cords gave out. Professor Chester would always rip him a new one because his shoulders moved when he yelled-- ' _what are you, a goddamn chicken? Keep your shoulders straight!'_

"I don't know the specifics, but I won't assign you homework or anything, and I can try to give you as many free passes from fighting as you need," he offered. It was nice of him.

"What, looking down on me?" I teased. "Don't think I can take on a bunch of kids?" Thurman crossed his impressively muscled arms, looking very much like he'd like to throw his head back in laugher.

"Oh, come on, Morgan, you know I know better than to underestimate you after you kicked my ass last year. Your magic is something to behold-- although these kids are pretty good, too. Especially them," he nodded to the group of boys May had pointed out earlier, "and them," this time, to the Belloway kids. Grace happened to be fighting Anna, and her movements were slow and graceful compared to Anna's aggressive, sharp style.

"What about the boys?" I asked.

"Ah, that's Martin, Herman, and Boyle," he explained, "Martin comes from common blood, but he trains like the devil and has an... intense personality. Herman is a bit haughty, but he's sincere. Boyle is... well, I don't really know too much about that kid. All I know is that those three together are a force of nature." I nodded. This was good to know.

"Right. And what about the Belloways?" That was my main objective, after all. Thruman paused as if he didn't want to look their way more than he had to. His voice dropped low.

"Grace, she's perfect. Unparalleled, really, but she doesn't give the student she's sparring with any more of a challenge than they're ready for. If she wasn't the daughter of a duke, I would recommend her for a teaching position here when she graduated." I tried not to stare at Grace, but it was impossible. The way she and Anna were fighting, so matched in skill, was a testament to Thurman's words. I could see from the distance that she was restraining her real talent.

"What about the twins?" Thurman stiffened, narrowing his eyes in distaste.

"Anna is... okay. Unsettling, maybe, but nice enough. Annakin, though-- I don't like that kid much."

"You don't like him?" I baited, tipping my head to the side and furrowing my eyebrows together. I would have hit him for talking about a student like that, but it would be suspicious for me to interact with the professor so playfully.

"I don't know how to describe it. Maybe it's just speculation. Anyway, I know I shouldn't talk badly about a student-- especially the duke's son." We slipped into an uncomfortable silence and I watched the students spar around us.

What was weird was how the group of boys, Martin, Herman, and Boyle, suddenly stopped fighting. Martin stepped forward.

"Hey, professor, don't tell me you're giving her a free pass all day." He gestured to me. My eyebrows raised-- I was surprised Thurman let his students talk to him like this. "I wanted to see her skill. Everyone's probably been dying to see it, too." Sure enough, I noticed several stares on us.

"That's because you're making a commotion, boy," Thurman spoke coldly, though you could tell he was fond of Martin. He turned to look at me, a question in his eyes.

"I can spar. Thanks for letting me know about how the class works, professor," I lied. It was nice of Thurman to try to spare me, but it would be better if I didn't get special attention. I would blend in better this way.

Though, sparring with someone well known to be incredibly strong was also a sure-fire way to gain attention. It was no big deal, though. I would probably lose anyway.

We lined up, barely 5 feet from each other.

"Ready?" He asked, black hair shimmering with sweat.

"Sure," I replied, adjusting my grip on my sword. He lept forward, trying to catch me off guard with a direct blow. I had no doubt that one hit with that level of force would knock me down for the count without magical re-enforcement. I barely managed to dodge sideways.

I could take him out easily if I was able to use magic, but with so many eyes it was impossible. This was the fighter's sector-- magic wasn't prohibited, per se, it would just attract unnecessary attention. Hardly anyone with talent in magic would go to the fighter's sector over the magic sector.

Hardly anyone, but... my mind flashed back to Grace. Why didn't she choose the magic sector? Surely a talented fire mage would be fit for it.

That lapse of attention was my mistake. In a moment, he pivoted, siding his sword against mine, down to the hilt, and ripped it from my hands. It clattered across the floor.

"22 seconds," the redhead, Boyle announced, and I bent over to pick up my sword.

"I'm impressed, new kid," Herman said, a smirk plastered across his face, "I was expecting less than 15." Martin glared at him before offering a hand. I shook it, noting the sincerity in his eyes. He was a good kid.

"Thanks for the match. Sorry for calling you out like that," he said, but I could read the true intentions behind his eyes. He wanted to see my skill as a rare a scholarship student, one who had previously been homeschooled.

"I'm really good with practical exams, not really sparring," I let him know, answering his invisible question. He blinked in surprise before smiling.

"Right, makes sense." He thanked me again before I turned to return to my own group, May practically bouncing with excitement as I approached.

" _Martin_ challenged you!" She exclaimed. I looked at Elizabeth for an explanation. She also looked pretty excited.

"He's renowned to turn down fighting anyone he doesn't deem worthy. Because of that, most people are never able to be in a match with him. You did really well." She was comforting me, that I knew. I glanced back over at Martin, who was locked in combat with Boyle.

"Who's challenged him before?" She rubbed her head with a hand, thinking.

"Besides him and his friends Boyle and Herman, I've only seen him fight with Annakin. It was pretty intense, but Annakin eventually ended up winning." So Annakin was strong, then. I suddenly had the urge to watch him fight but restrained myself. It wouldn't be too good to stare right off the bat.

"I see..." I trailed off, readying my sword once again. As fun as it was to chat with Elizabeth and May, I needed to focus on blending in. I knew Thurman would probably let me get away with it if I slacked, but it wouldn't be good to garner a reputation.

One thing was clear: I needed to get closer to the Belloway students.


	3. olivia

I scanned the room, pausing uncomfortably when I noticed Grace staring at me silently, her eyes flickering between the professor and me. I shifted uncomfortably. Although I was sure that my disguise as Olivia Denton was perfect, I still needed to make sure I stayed out of the spotlight as much as possible.

That would be hard, knowing my track record when I was a student. Morgan Eclaire had a... reputation, back then. 

"...Now then, let's get started. Get to it-- two laps!" Ah, this I was more familiar with. My professor when I was in school mandated two warm-up laps, as well. It's probably where Professor Thurman had gotten the idea from-- he had been in the same class as me. 

I got myself into a steady jog, correcting my speed so it was right around where everyone else's was. I didn't suck at running, but without magic I was rather slow.

"Olivia," came a voice from beside me. I turned, smile plastering itself on my face before I saw who it was.

Grace.

"Ah, hello," I greeted. She stared forward as we ran. "It's nice to meet you. Thank you for helping out, earlier." She glanced away briefly, and I wondered if she wasn't used to being thanked.

A girl with a brown ponytail slowed, jogging at a steady pace next to me. She was joined by a girl with a bob haircut.

"You must have come from a pretty strict school, huh? Your language, 'it's a pleasure to meet you,' and calling the Professor 'sir' and all that was cool," she grinned, hopping into our conversation. The girl next to her nodded enthusiastically.

"Where did you come from?" She asked.

Hmm, this was something I could tease Thurman about later. Not being super hard on his kids, was he? The discipline I had gone through when I was in school was inane compared to this-- not that Thurman cut anyone any slack. He just seemed... closer to his students. 

"I was actually homeschooled, I transferred here on a scholarship," I replied, the lie coming easily to my lips. The girls' eyes widened.

"Wha-at, really? I didn't know you could do that!" The ponytail girl said.

"You must be, like, really smart then?" The bobbed girl spoke. I smiled sheepishly.

"Ah, thanks," I said awkwardly, not really knowing how to reply. The two girls began to talk amongst themselves as we ran, and I sunk into a comfortable silence next to Grace.

"That's right, Grace," I remembered my mission, to get to know the Belloway kids. She turned her face imperceptibly toward me.

"Yes?"

"Uh." Shoot, I hadn't thought of what to say. I was an adult trying to act like a teenager-- even though I was hardly 23, it felt weird. I opened my mouth to say something, and at my silence she fully turned her head. 

My breath was knocked out of me when I noticed the startling blue of her eyes, so crystal I was surprised I hadn't spotted it at all before. To be honest, I hadn't noticed anything about her appearance beside her long, silver hair. It's beauty glared at me every time I caught sight of it; a mocking symbol. 

Seeing her now, face slightly red from exertion, I realized how popular she probably was.

 _Get ahold of yourself, Morgan-- don't let a kid knock you off your feet_. Right. I was an adult.

To my surprise, she cracked a smile. From all of the reports I had been given, she was a quiet, intimidating presence and wasn't seen to smile or goof off at all in the classroom. A perfect student, a perfect soldier.

"I'm sorry," I bit my lip, slowing my pace as we reached the end of the final lap, "I forgot what I was going to say." She regarded me again, though this time, instead of an impassable wall, I could read genuine curiosity in her eyes.

"...That's alright," she replied as we finally stopped. 

"Olivia!" I heard the girl with the bobbed hair call, just as I was looking around trying to figure out where to go. It looked like everyone was getting into groups. "Come join up with us!"

"Yeah, okay," I called back, eyes flickering back to Grace as I moved. She had already left, joining her siblings to form a group. I noticed there was tension between them, Anna standing closely next to Annakin yet refusing to look at Grace. I felt a shiver work its way down my spine when he turned to make eye contact with me, winking. Grace followed his eyes, but I was pulled away before I could see anything more.

"Olivia," the ponytail girl said, "I'm glad you joined our group." I laughed lightly.

"No, I appreciate you offering-- I was worried I would be left alone or something, it seems like everyone's already got their cliques." The ponytail girl clicked her tongue.

"That's true. It would have been bad if you'd joined with them," she pointed to a group of guys in the corner of the room, "or them... not that it's likely they would have offered." This time, her finger moved to point at Grace and her siblings.

"You seem to get along with Grace," the bobbed girl noted, "I've never even seen her smile before. Have you known each other long?" The girl with the ponytail's eyes widened.

"She _smiled_? That Grace?" She seemed baffled. The girl with a bob nodded vigorously. I got the impression they liked to gossip.

"I know! It was so crazy," she noted. I bit my lip as they spoke animatedly with each other, realizing I didn't know their names.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked this earlier, but what are your names?" I cut in. The girl with a bob cut blinked, a bit taken aback.

"Oh shoot, I totally forgot about that. I'm May," she told me, grinning widely.

"I'm Elizabeth, but you can call me Liz if you want," the girl with the ponytail let me know.

"It's nice to meet you guys." They smiled back, and for not the first time I felt as if this whole undercover thing was going to be difficult. No matter how much I pretended, I was still an adult and hadn't talked to anyone so casually in years. "So, what was it you said before about the groups I was lucky not to be paired with?" It was also good to collect more information to make sure I didn't blow my cover. Also, I was curious about what they thought of the Belloway kids.

"Well..." Elizabeth whispered conspiratorily, gesturing to the group of male students she had pointed out earlier, "those guys--"

"Alright! We're going to start with some sparring. Everyone should be in a group of three-- get in pairs and rotate every 5 minutes. The odd person out can be the judge," Professor Thurman's voice cut in.

**...**

"I'll spar Olivia first!" May offered, her hand stretching into the air. Elizabeth glared at her.

"May, she's new, don't make her go first," she scolded.

"Ah, right, sorry," May apologized meekly.

"Olivia," the professor started as he approached us, "because you're new I'll allow you to sit out this first round. You two, spar each other. Take breaks as you need, but know that I'll be watching you." It was almost comical how their faces tensed when he arrived, though obviously in respect rather than fear. Or maybe a little fear. 

"Yes, professor!" They said in unison. May's voice, elevated, cracked a little at the end, and she flushed red. Professor Thurman and I pretended not to notice.

"Olivia, come with me."

"Yes, professor," I repeated, internally holding back laughter. From the corner of the room, I noticed Grace watching me walk away with the professor. Involuntarily, I found my eyes flickering to her silver hair, its color in the soft light a silent reminder. 

"I heard about it from the principal," Thurman let me know as he led me to the corner of the room. I watched the students spar each other, the smell of sweat and cry of steel meeting steel oddly nostalgiac.

"Yes... professor," I replied, biting my lip to keep from smiling. Humor twinkled in his eyes.

"My Goddess, Morgan, you're gonna make me blow your cover," he commented, bringing a hand to his mouth. I wiggled my eyebrows, tipping my head toward May and Elizabeth.

"They seem pretty scared of you. Tough guy, are we?" He actually let out a chuckle at that before stopping himself.

"Nowhere as crazy as that old man you and I learned from. You remember him, don't you? Always made us call him sir. Smiling was a mortal sin to that man." Now it was my turn to try not to laugh.

"I remember, I remember. Good old Professor Chester-- he was a hell of a swordsman."

"That he was," Thruman agreed. A reminiscent pause filtered between us, and I smiled at the memory of the now-imposing Thurman struggling to yell loud enough in class and being forced to repeat the swordsman's creed again and again until his vocal cords gave out. Professor Chester would always rip him a new one because his shoulders moved when he yelled-- ' _what are you, a goddamn chicken? Keep your shoulders straight!'_

"I don't know the specifics, but I won't assign you homework or anything, and I can try to give you as many free passes from fighting as you need," he offered. It was nice of him.

"What, looking down on me?" I teased. "Don't think I can take on a bunch of kids?" Thurman crossed his impressively muscled arms, looking very much like he'd like to throw his head back in laugher.

"Oh, come on, Morgan, you know I know better than to underestimate you after you kicked my ass last year. Your magic is something to behold-- although these kids are pretty good, too. Especially them," he nodded to the group of boys May had pointed out earlier, "and them," this time, to the Belloway kids. Grace happened to be fighting Anna, and her movements were slow and graceful compared to Anna's aggressive, sharp style.

"What about the boys?" I asked.

"Ah, that's Martin, Herman, and Boyle," he explained, "Martin comes from common blood, but he trains like the devil and has an... intense personality. Herman is a bit haughty, but he's sincere. Boyle is... well, I don't really know too much about that kid. All I know is that those three together are a force of nature." I nodded. This was good to know.

"Right. And what about the Belloways?" That was my main objective, after all. Thruman paused as if he didn't want to look their way more than he had to. His voice dropped low.

"Grace, she's perfect. Unparalleled, really, but she doesn't give the student she's sparring with any more of a challenge than they're ready for. If she wasn't the daughter of a duke, I would recommend her for a teaching position here when she graduated." I tried not to stare at Grace, but it was impossible. The way she and Anna were fighting, so matched in skill, was a testament to Thurman's words. I could see from the distance that she was restraining her real talent.

"What about the twins?" Thurman stiffened, narrowing his eyes in distaste.

"Anna is... okay. Unsettling, maybe, but nice enough. Annakin, though-- I don't like that kid much."

"You don't like him?" I baited, tipping my head to the side and furrowing my eyebrows together. I would have hit him for talking about a student like that, but it would be suspicious for me to interact with the professor so playfully.

"I don't know how to describe it. Maybe it's just speculation. Anyway, I know I shouldn't talk badly about a student-- especially the duke's son." We slipped into an uncomfortable silence and I watched the students spar around us.

What was weird was how the group of boys, Martin, Herman, and Boyle, suddenly stopped fighting. Martin stepped forward.

"Hey, professor, don't tell me you're giving her a free pass all day." He gestured to me. My eyebrows raised-- I was surprised Thurman let his students talk to him like this. "I wanted to see her skill. Everyone's probably been dying to see it, too." Sure enough, I noticed several stares on us.

"That's because you're making a commotion, boy," Thurman spoke coldly, though you could tell he was fond of Martin. He turned to look at me, a question in his eyes.

"I can spar. Thanks for letting me know about how the class works, professor," I lied. It was nice of Thurman to try to spare me, but it would be better if I didn't get special attention. I would blend in better this way.

Though, sparring with someone well known to be incredibly strong was also a sure-fire way to gain attention. It was no big deal, though. I would probably lose anyway.

We lined up, barely 5 feet from each other.

"Ready?" He asked, black hair shimmering with sweat.

"Sure," I replied, adjusting my grip on my sword. He lept forward, trying to catch me off guard with a direct blow. I had no doubt that one hit with that level of force would knock me down for the count without magical re-enforcement. I barely managed to dodge sideways.

I could take him out easily if I was able to use magic, but with so many eyes it was impossible. This was the fighter's sector-- magic wasn't prohibited, per se, it would just attract unnecessary attention. Hardly anyone with talent in magic would go to the fighter's sector over the magic sector.

Hardly anyone, but... my mind flashed back to Grace. Why didn't she choose the magic sector? Surely a talented fire mage would be fit for it.

That lapse of attention was my mistake. In a moment, he pivoted, siding his sword against mine, down to the hilt, and ripped it from my hands. It clattered across the floor.

"22 seconds," the redhead, Boyle announced, and I bent over to pick up my sword.

"I'm impressed, new kid," Herman said, a smirk plastered across his face, "I was expecting less than 15." Martin glared at him before offering a hand. I shook it, noting the sincerity in his eyes. He was a good kid.

"Thanks for the match. Sorry for calling you out like that," he said, but I could read the true intentions behind his eyes. He wanted to see my skill as a rare scholarship student, one who had previously been homeschooled.

"I'm really good with practical exams, not really sparring," I let him know, answering his invisible question. He blinked in surprise before smiling.

"Right, makes sense." He thanked me again before I turned to return to my own group, May practically bouncing with excitement as I approached.

" _Martin_ challenged you!" She exclaimed. I looked at Elizabeth for an explanation. She also looked pretty excited.

"He's renowned to turn down fighting anyone he doesn't deem worthy. Because of that, most people are never able to be in a match with him. You did really well." She was comforting me, that I knew. I glanced back over at Martin, who was locked in combat with Boyle.

"Who's challenged him before?" She rubbed her head with a hand, thinking.

"Besides him and his friends Boyle and Herman, I've only seen him fight with Annakin. It was pretty intense, but Annakin eventually ended up winning." So Annakin was strong, then. I suddenly had the urge to watch him fight but restrained myself. It wouldn't be too good to stare right off the bat.

"I see..." I trailed off, readying my sword once again. As fun as it was to chat with Elizabeth and May, I needed to focus on blending in. I knew Thurman would probably let me get away with it if I slacked, but it wouldn't be good to garner a reputation.

One thing was clear: I needed to get closer to the Belloway students.


	4. tough guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which she is thrust into petty drama.

**Warning: slightly mature content**

Instantly, her eyes darkened and she pushed me back against the desk, the wood biting harshly into my skin as her lips collided with mine. I gasped, and she took the opportunity to deepen this kiss, her hands sneaking down to my lower back, separating it from the painful edge of the hard wood. Though my head was spinning, my entire body beating in rhythm with my heart, I found the gesture to be sweet.

I let my eyes flutter shut, stretching my neck forward to press further into her. My hands moved to rest on her chest, clenching against the fabric of her shirt in surprise when she scooped me up in a single motion, placing me on top of one of the larger desks in the room.

Before she could reconnect our lips, I spoke.

"Wait, I-I... I didn't check the schedule, I don't know when the next lecture might start in this classroom--" I said quickly, breath labored. That wasn't what I had meant to say: I had meant to tell her to stop. 

She narrowed her eyes playfully, lowering her mouth to my neck and pressing her lips against the sensitive place where my neck met my collarbone. I shuddered a moan, hands moving to grip her sides tightly.

"I did. It's free for the rest of today; no one will come in here," she spoke against the skin of my neck, the vibrations traveling straight to my core.

_ She checked the schedule? Does that mean she planned this? _

I didn't have time to continue my suspicions, though, because my mind turned to mush when she began trailing ruthless kisses up and down my neck. Electricity leaped from my skin wherever her lips met it, and the feeling was almost unbearable. I had to work to keep my voice from coming out too loud.

"Your moans are adorable," she told me, and I would have been incredibly embarrassed if I wasn't busy being so turned on. Goddammit, her face should be illegal. I had had plenty of sexual partners before this, but none of them had ever been so... attentive.

A gasp escaped me when she slipped a hand under my shirt, cold fingers fondling one of my breasts. I let my head fall back, pleasure traveling down to my core.

" _ Fuck _ ," I cursed as she met my lips with her own once more. The feeling was overwhelming, addicting, and I found myself trembling and sensitive under her touch.

When she pulled back, I had to fight myself for control. Half of me wanted for her to continue, but the other half knew it was definitely not the time nor place to do so. I panted heavily, closing my eyes so I didn't have to look at her-- if I saw the look on her face, like a hungry animal devouring its prey, I wasn't sure I would be able to hold myself back.

"Grace," I said again, voice pathetically shaky, "what--"

"Don't say my name like that," she warned, and my eyes threatened to open when I felt her hand on my chin again, heat radiating off of my body. I took a deep breath, and then another, forcing myself to calm. 

"Can you... back up?" I requested, pleading. She obliged silently, and I really wanted to know what expression she had. Or what expression  _ I  _ had, for that matter.

"Why are you keeping your eyes closed like that?" She asked, amused, as she obliged my request. Without her literally inches in front of me, I could finally feel myself start to cool down.

"..." I couldn't tell her,  _ oh, it's because if I look at you I'll end up begging you to continue. _ Instead, I made the executive decision to change the subject. "Why did you... do that?" Wow, I really asked that. Wow. I was so embarrassed, I could feel my face practically melting. 

"Open your eyes first," she said.

"...No."

Silence. Then, a chuckle, low. It went straight to my core. Fuck, I needed to get away from her before I winded up losing all of my dignity.

_ No, you're a grown woman, Morgan. You can calm down enough to get some answers first. How dare you let your guard down in front of royalty -- and a Belloway at that. Was the oath you made to your father's grave all of those years ago this delicate? _

"Why?" I repeated, belligerent. She hummed as if she were deliberating her answer.

"Because I felt like it?"

"That's a lie," I fought out. My father's words echoed in my mind.  _ Never trust a Belloway _ . 

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You said you... checked the schedule."

"What, do you think I'm planning something?" Another laugh, though this one was harsher, almost sadder. My eyes flew open and I shot up. Grace's back was to me, and I approached her with caution, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder from behind. Sparks shot from where I touched her, but I pretended not to notice.

"Grace--" I started again, but she cut me off, removing my hand from her shoulder delicately as she moved to exit the room.

"I'll see you later, rabbit."

**...**

This time, it was my eyes that followed Grace in Professor Thurman's class as we did squats with 20lb weights on our backs. Her shirt stuck to her from perspiration, hugging her curves distractingly.

"--livia?" Elizabeth's voice snapped me back into focus.

"Hmm?" I hummed distractedly. A pause.

"Are you okay?" Finally, I turned to look at her, smiling innocently. Her eyebrows were furrowed. May's doe-like eyes were stared at me with equal anticipation.

"What do you mean, Elizabeth?" I asked. 

_ Not that it had stopped you yesterday _ , my mind reminded me, and again I became hyper-aware of Grace's presence in the room. 

" _ Liz, _ " Elizabeth corrected; she'd been wanting me to use her nickname for a while, though I still felt weird about it concerning I was technically an adult. "Normally you're really focused, but you've been spacing out all day," she let me know, shooting me a concerned look. It was true-- most of the time I had to keep my concentration on the mana in the room, keeping track of Anna, Annakin and Grace and making sure I didn't stand out more than I needed to. It seemed my little... quarrel with Grace had affected me more than I realized.

I couldn't get the bittersweet expression on her face at that moment out of my head.

"Oh, yeah, I'm good, I just didn't get a lot of sleep," I bluffed lamely. Elizabeth seemed to buy it; like the true gossip-Queen she was, she changed the subject fast. 

"There have been a ton of rumors going around recently," she whispered conspiratorily. May nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah! People have been talking about how you're close with Grace, and also how Martin asked to spar with you on your first day. You're like an enigma to them," she added. I sighed.

"What have they been saying?" It was good for me to know what they thought of me. Of course, it was impossible to stay completely out of the spotlight, what with me being a transfer and as a latent consequence of getting to know the Belloway family, but it was better if things didn't get out of hand.

"Well, I dunno," May deliberated, "it's mostly like, uh, well, some people are jealous-- saying things like you're actually really weak and you came to the school because of a political agenda." Ouch. I knew it was just petty rumors, but they were actually closer to the truth than I would have liked to admit. 

"Also, some people are talking about how you're secretly Professor Eclaire's kid or something, because you sort of give off the whole regal air and stuff, or maybe related to the principal because you get along with all of the professors in our classes." I had to bite back a laugh. People thought I was my own daughter?

Still, it seemed that I needed to be a bit more professional with the professors. It was hard, though, because many of them were my close friends and comrades. 

"But Olivia," Elizabeth warned in an uncharacteristically serious tone, "I would be careful. A lot of people look up to Grace, so you might end up being a target. She's... really popular, after all." 

That was true. From what I could see, Grace Belloway fascinated those around her. Ethereal beauty, perfect swordsmanship, and Queen-like mannerisms, it was hard not to be. And although I wasn't particularly close with anyone besides May and Elizabeth, even I had heard whispers in the hallway about her. About how no one really knew her true strength, because she always matched the strength of her opponent out of politeness.

Except, I knew. I thought back to the midterm scores she had shown me earlier in the semester; though even those scores couldn't show her real strength.

_ 99 out of 100 _ . A prodigy.

I smiled sourly; how lonely she had to be. The daughter of a duke, famous at school, renowned for her skills-- every hour of the day she had eyes on her. I wondered if she had anyone at all she could show her true face to.

_ Little rabbit _ . Her voice flashed in my mind, and I felt my cheeks and ears heat. This was a bad time to be remembering  _ that _ . 

I needed to single her out, talk about our weird... not-really-a-fight. I wasn't a child, and I knew how important communication was. 

Besides, something about her eyes that day brought out every protective instinct in my body.

_ Don't fall for it, Morgan Eclaire, _ I had to remind myself.  _ No matter how much she reminds you of the you from back then, you're aren't alike. She's a Belloway, a royal child.  _ Her beautiful, silver hair flashed through my mind, marking my resolve.

Right. She was a Belloway, and I was an Eclaire. There was no room for similarities. I would need to get close to her, for the sake of the job, but nothing like... that could ever happen again.

...

Grace wasn't in my last class as a student, purely so I could avoid suspicion for having my schedule perfectly tailored to match hers. Because of this, it was supremely boring. A history class I had already taken once before that Anna Belloway was in. She never attended, though, so I didn't even have the ability to evaluate her. 

I waited until everyone had left the classroom-- a habit from my school days-- before leaving myself. The large hallways were clear because classes had started again. Most students, besides myself, of course, had classes in the morning and in the afternoon. I had barely 2 hours before I needed to transform back into myself and prepare for lecture. 

I noticed a group of three girls, one who I recognized to be in my history class, conglomerated close to the classroom door. They watched me as I exited, stepping closer to me. I smiled.

"Hello," I greeted, forcing back the  _ 'Can I help you?'  _ that I normally would have asked. I was a student right now. The tallest girl, a pretty blond, scowled at me. 

"I don't understand how someone like her could be the daughter of the esteemed Professor Eclaire," one girl whispered to another, purposefully loud, referring to the rumors that had been floating about. It sounded ridiculous-- me, the daughter of myself. 

"It's probably a lie that she's close with Grace. I've never seen them together, before," another said. The blond laughed, pity coloring her gaze as she stared at me.

"What a childish way to get attention," she bit out. I blinked at them. Were they trying to bully me? How cute. 

I smiled, saccharine sweet, in return before pivoting and walking past them. It wasn't worth my time.

When a hand gripped my arm, halting me, I had to force back the gut reaction to slam my aggressor against the wall with magic. I was still disguised as a student, and Olivia Denton didn't know how to use magic. Besides, assaulting a student was probably a bad idea. I couldn't fight back.

"Let go," I ground out, working to keep a fake smile on my face, "please." The girl who had grabbed me, a brunette who I decided was currently using strength-reenforcement magic, slammed me against the wall. I gasped as all of the breath left my lungs; that would definitely bruise later.

So much for not standing out.

**...**

"If you want friends, why don't you become friends with us? There's no need to go about spreading lies," the blond cooed, grasping a lock of my hair in her hand delicately before yanking it, hard. My neck arched, muscles straining as she forced my gaze to the ground. 

"I have never once lied about who I am or who I am not friends with," I articulated. Ironically, it was most definitely a lie. "I have honor. I wouldn't accuse someone of something I heard about in a rumor and attack them purely out of jealousy." She gripped my hair at the roots, slamming my head back into the wall. I winced. Her face was that of pure rage.

"Are you calling me dishonorable?" She hissed. 

In this school, a military academy, one's honor was held above all else. To insult somebody's honor was to insult their skill, their family, and their valor. 

"Are you then suggesting that your conduct is not dishonorable?" A cold voice cut in. I peeked at the person standing behind the blond, my heart racing when I realized who it was. 

"This is none of your business," the blond screeched as she turned her head to confront the person behind her. Her posture, which had been loose and confident, instantly tensed. "Grace," she breathed, fear radiating from the words.

"Did I give you permission to call me by my name?" Grace asked, and though she hadn't raised her voice at all power and intimidation rolled off of her words. 

_ The presence of a royal--  _ those words, words my father had once told me when I was very young, flashed through my mind, as well as the intrinsic fear. It referred to the absolute power those with royal blood held over their subjects.

The current Duke Belloway was the third son of the late King, that is to say, royalty. Proof of royal blood was seen in the pearly hair each child carried. Grace Belloway, with her flowing crystal locks, was no doubt of royal blood.

It was characteristic of that coy man, the current Duke Belloway, to order me to investigate his children. He knew my past, knew what the silver locks meant to me and my family. And still, he would put me in such a position. 

"Release her," Grace demanded, taking a step closer. The blond flinched, but still didn't let go, though her grip loosened. I took the opportunity to lean forward so my head was no longer smashed against the wall. 

Grace's eyes flashed, a golden light emanating from them.

_ Her magic skill is impressive _ , I noted, recognizing the type of magic she was using to be a more advanced form of the fire element. Instantly, the blond's hand was forced off of me, now glued to her side. She struggled awkwardly, but her arm was stuck.

I slumped forward, aching and tired. I wasn't sure how much longer my transformation spell would hold out-- I was lucky I didn't pass out when she hit my head. If I had, the spell would have been removed immediately. I stood quickly, my head spinning. I needed to get out of here.

"Thank you," I smiled at Grace, regretting that I couldn't talk to her like I wanted to but knowing that I needed to hurry before I passed out. Already spots were dancing in the corner of my vision, and I had to focus so that I didn't sway or stumble. It was annoying that I had needed to be saved like some whimpering ingenue, but with my power disguised I Grace had helped me out a lot.

Grace's hand reached out to stop me in the same place that the brunette had left a bruise and I involuntarily winced. She let go almost immediately.

"Sorry," she murmured, and I had to fight the urge to stop and let her touch me again. 

"No, I'm sorry-- thank you for helping me out, but I-I really need to go," I explained hastily, dizziness blurring the edges of my vision. She narrowed her eyes. Behind her, I noticed the three girls quickly making their escape.

"Let me take you to the infirmary," she reasoned, and I bit my lip. I knew the nurse, Katarina-- she had been one of my former classmates. As soon as she saw me she would know to make Grace leave before my transformation wore off. 

"Shit," I muttered, quietly. I would need to cancel my classes for the rest of the day. I glanced at Grace again, trying not to get distracted by her intense gaze or how close her lips were to me. She was unnervingly smart-- if I canceled class as Professor Eclaire she might be able to connect the dots and realize who I was.

I felt a pang where my body had hit the wall and a wave of fatigue washed over me, my knees buckling. This was the effects of magical reinforcement: the wounds it caused were unnervingly painful and would have lasting effect unless treated. No matter how suspicious, I couldn't teach in this condition. I would have to hope that Katarina would be able to get me in good enough shape to make it to class.

Grace moved to my side quickly, scooping me off the ground like some sort of prince in a farytale. I flushed red, realizing again just how strong she was. She had lifted me, a grown adult, like I was no heavier than a backpack. 

"I can walk," I asserted, though my trembling legs assured me I probably couldn't. My protests fell upon deaf ears. Mostly, I just wanted  _ her _ to put me down, maybe to have someone else carry me to the infirmary. Her touch lit a flame inside my body like it remembered the day before. Even close to losing my consciousness, she managed to have an effect on me. I was going crazy.

"How do you  _ do  _ that," I mumbled into her shoulder, loopy from the spots dancing in my eyes. She hummed questioningly in response. "...unfair."

"What?" She asked, and I had to bury my head in her shoulder to hide my embarrassment. So unfair, the effect she had on me. 

Also, she smelled damn good. I felt her stiffen when I gave in and nuzzled my cheek against the soft material of her shirt and pulled back, slightly worried I had upset her. My head buzzed painfully as I did, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bringing my hands up to my temples. 

"Almost there," Grace let me know, her pace quickening. I wanted to let my head fall back to her shoulder, but I was able to keep it upright the entire way to the infirmary. Somehow, I had managed not to slip into unconsciousness just yet.

"Oh? A student? What happened?" I heard the concerned voice of Katarina, the nurse, as we entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Miss Niel," Grace greeted, shifting to place me down on one of the medical cots. I groaned, turning to curl into a ball, my head and back throbbing.

"Katarina," I mumbled, and I heard a gasp of recognition. 

"She needs to rest now, so I'm going to need to ask you to leave," she told Grace, bless her soul. 

"I won't be a bother," Grace said.

"No, nope; patients only, shoo." I would have laughed if I wasn't concentrating all my power on staying awake through the dizziness. 

"...I'll be back later," Grace finally allowed, and I felt the mana of her presence leave as the infirmary door clicked closed. 

I let out a long sigh, my body finally relaxing as I felt the squeak of a stool beside me.

"Go ahead and sleep, Morgan," Katarina said, "you can fill me in on what the hell's going on after you wake up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, angst


	5. father, please guide me

When I woke up I had a raging headache and I felt like my body was imitating a sack of rocks. I sat up in alarm, however, when I remembered I still needed to go to class. I couldn't give Grace any suspicion that Professor Eclaire was actually Olivia. If Olivia was passed out in the infirmary and Professor Eclaire was simultaneously missing from class it would look bad.

"Katarina?" I called into the room. I heard a shuffling noise, and then the curtain around my bed opened. I winced when the light of the main room hit my sensitive eyes.

"You're up," Katarina observed, "how are you feeling?"

"Like shit," I assured her. She laughed heartily.

"Still gonna go to class, though, huh?" She knew me well.

"Yeah. Think you can hit me with some pain killers and a dose of healing magic?" 

In this world, healing magic only sped up healing. Of course, this put a heavy strain on the healer, so it was usually only used for emergencies. However, with the water element, it could also be used for numbing purposes, which was considerably less mana-draining.

"Sure thing," she said, hovering her hands over my head. I closed my eyes, feeling the icy magic wash over me.

"How long has it been?" I asked.

"Uh..." A pause. "It's been like an hour and a half." I sighed-- that would give me less time than I wanted to prepare for class.

"Great. Okay. Thanks, Rina."

"No problem, Morg. Just don't... go around getting hurt anymore. Or hurting any others."

"What gives you the impression that I would go around hurting people?" I asked defensively. Katarina hummed dramatically, as if she were thinking really hard about something.

"Well, long long ago, before she became renowned as a stellar and gorgeous professor, Morgan Eclaire attended Sain Clare Academy. She was popular, powerful, and well known for kicking the ass of anyone who crossed her. So much so, that everyone was too scared to call her by her actual name and she gained the nickname Wi--" I shot forward, covering Katarina's mouth with my hands. My face flushed red in mortification.

"Rina," I whined. She laughed, removing my hands. "Please don't remind me of my embarrassing past." It was lucky the nickname had been given to me in the first place-- because of that, almost nobody who used to attend school with me knew who Morgan Eclaire was.

"Remember when we met? It was in Professor Scole's advanced healing class. I thought you were terrifying-- you used to sit there with a blank expression, and you always knew everything." I chuckled.

"I remember; you fumbled on an answer in front of the class and when the professor let you choose someone else to answer, you picked me, even though my hand wasn't up." Katarina joined my laughter.

"Your, your face! I for sure thought you would know the answer. It was the first time any of us had ever seen you flustered before." I scowled, glaring at her affectionately. 

"...Thanks for treating me, Rina. It was nice to see you again." She smiled down at me, shoving a small bottle of pain killers my way.

"Take care, Morgan. I don't know why the principal is doing this, but be careful."

It was the second time today I had been warned. All I could wonder was if the worst thing I would be facing in the future would be petty bullying, or if there was something much darker lurking in the shadows.

_ Be careful _ . The words rounded on me as I pictured the faces of the Belloway children, their silver hair glaring at me from within my mind. 

I let the rage the image generated wash over me; for the honor of my late father, I wouldn't forget my anger: that's what I had promised myself.

...

I gulped down two of the pills Katarina gave me, resting my head in my palms as I tried not to focus on its pounding. I had ten minutes until class started, and probably five before any student started showing up.

I still needed to talk to Grace, apologize for before. I knew all too well what kind of loneliness she was facing-- to be a prodigy, admired and feared by those around her. Granted, my reputation had been a little more tumultuous, more fear than admiration, but I understood that kind of loneliness nonetheless.

But I couldn't imagine what it was like to be the daughter of a duke on top of all of that. I, who had commoners' blood running through my veins, could never begin to grasp the struggles one with royal blood surely faced.  _ With great power comes great responsibility, _ my father had once told me.

Not that it made up for any of the horrors they had submitted to the people who followed them, nor the betrayal. It was why a shiver invariably ran down my spine every time I caught sight of a royal's silver hair, its magnificence stirring the hatred-fueled oath I had sworn so many years ago. 

What was surprising was how Grace wasn't the first one in the classroom. Usually, she arrived early, claiming her spot in the second row easily and reviewing her notes. Then, whenever I wasn't looking, she would invariably examine me.

This time, instead of Grace, it was Anna Belloway who appeared in front of me. She grinned at me as she entered, approaching steadily and placing a small notebook on my desk.

"Professor," she greeted.

"Miss Belloway, hello," I returned the greeting, glancing at the notebook. It seemed like a normal notebook. Was she going to ask for help with class material? When I looked up again, I noticed she was pouting slightly. I blinked, baffled. "May I help you?"

"Please call me Anna-- I hate being called Miss Belloway." Right. She had a rivalry with her sister.

"Of course... Anna. What do you need?" Another blinding smile was sent my way. I smiled back cautiously; this was not what I was expecting. Anna and her twin brother seemed a lot more... friendly than Grace acted toward me. 

The Principal's words filtered through my mind. 

_ There's no doubt Grace and Annakin will become aware that you are the selector soon, _ he had said.  _ They both have spies planted throughout the Academy.  _ Perhaps that was why Grace had been staring at me so much.

But that still didn't explain her fascination with Olivia. Had she figured out who I was? No, that should have been impossible, the magic was steadfast, I was sure of it. And... no one else seemed to be catching on, either. Anna and Annakin basically ignored Olivia-- I hadn't had any further interaction with him after he had winked at me the first day, and I was sure he had only done that to piss his sister off.

"I had a few questions about the material we went over yesterday," she explained, opening her notebook and flipping through its pages. Her handwriting was messier than I expected, but it was organized well.

"Of course, Miss Be-- Anna. I would be happy to go over anything you need. However..." My eyes flickered to the bottle of pain killers on my desk, and her gaze followed mine. Her smile widened.

"No worries, Professor. If you're not feeling well, I can ask you another time." I nodded gratefully, the jack-hammer in my head still screaming away. Luckily, I was still sitting down. I anguished for when class started and I would be required to stand up to lecture.

Maybe I would make today a workshop, instead.

But no, that would be too suspicious. Grace would realize something was wrong, and I couldn't have her connecting the dots that easily. I could trust Katarina to take care of things on her end-- like making excuses if Grace tried to visit 'Olivia' again, but I still needed to be careful.

I slipped the painkiller bottle under the desk as Anna walked to take a seat in the front of the classroom, beaming when my eyes met hers. I returned it tentatively just as students began to enter the classroom.

Evening my breaths, I closed my eyes. I could do this.

**...**

The lecture, on my part, was strained, though the students didn't seem to notice in any particular way. Grace, who had been staring at me less as of late, didn't seem to recognize the stiffness with which I squinted at the too-bright light in the classroom and how it made my head pound.

It was weird how I missed her blue-blue eyes on me as I danced around the classroom, helping students understand how to call upon their mana for different spells. My class was less of a question-answer seminar and more of an interactive lecture, but whenever I did happen to call on a student who didn't know the answer she would retrieve it for them immediately when I asked her to help out. 

I smiled to myself as I remembered my conversation with Katarina-- how I had been asked by her to answer a question I didn't know the answer to. I was under so much pressure, back then, and it felt like the world was ending to hear my classmates whisper in surprise when I told the teacher I didn't have the answer. 

Five years later, I recognized that it wasn't the end of the world at all, but a normal experience for someone to go through.

After class ended Grace left somewhat quickly, and a part of my brain wondered if she was going to visit Olivia, 'me,' in the infirmary. My heart fluttered, and for a moment I wished I was truly a student again so I could be there when she arrived, wake up to her, see her concerned eyes hover over me.

Not that they would; it was just a childish fantasy. I had responsibility, as an adult, and I couldn't afford to let my guard down and get lost in student life.

Still, it was nice to play pretend as 'Olivia.' I hadn't enjoyed my own student days at all, constantly working more and more to keep up with my reputation. Olivia had a rather punitive reputation as an okay-swordsman, where it was unknown why she was accepted to a prestigious academy on scholarship because her skills were hardly above average at best. Because of that, I could afford to relax because losing a fight didn't mean losing everything. 

"Professor," a kind voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I found myself staring awkwardly at the ever-present smile on Anna's face. 

"Anna, uh, thank you for being such a good student; I'll make sure to set up a time where we can chat about the class material with you later. Would you please come talk to me again after class tomorrow?" I requested, wanting nothing more than to lay down and take some more pain killers.

"Absolutely!" Anna grinned, "I'll remember to do that. I hope you feel better."

"Thanks," I mumbled, before pausing. I examined Anna, who stared back curiously. "You know, you should have more confidence in yourself. You're brilliant and you always do well on the tests, so don't stress yourself out too much." Though her smile didn't waver, I caught a bit of surprise in her eyes at my words. I couldn't help but tell her, though-- I knew everyone tended to underestimate her because of her dedication to her brother. People thought she was dependant on him, when in fact, she was practically a genius by herself.

Before I could move to pack up my things, the classroom door swung open, Annakin Belloway striding in.

"Anna, what's taking so long?" He asked her, and when he noticed what she was doing his eyes flickered to me. They widened. "Professor Eclaire!"

"...Hello, Mister Belloway," I greeted, slowly. I hadn't interacted with him much, but all of the other professors seemed wary. I wasn't naive enough not to heed caution. He stepped forward, placing his palms on my desk and leaning forward so our faces were close. I pulled back in alarm.

"Hmm... such a shame I can't use magic. I'm jealous of my sister for being able to look at you all day in class," he flirted, winking coyly. I blinked back.

"Um, thank you, Mister Belloway. It's unfortunate that I wasn't gifted with a stellar student such as yourself as well. I've heard great things about you from the other professors," I lied. He laughed jovially.

"Such a charmer. Better watch yourself, Professor, a guy might start thinking you like him." This time, Anna giggled, taking his arm and pulling him to the door. 

"Bye-bye, Professor, I'll see you tomorrow," Anna waved.

"It was nice to meet you, Professor Eclaire," Annakin said. I smiled uncomfortably at them.

"Have a wonderful day, you two," I wished them, somewhat sincerely. Mostly I just wanted Annakin out of the room.

The dynamic between the Belloway twins was rather odd. They were particularly close, so much so that everyone thought Anna was practically a vegetable-- that she had no ambition outside of her brother, and no talent outside of him either. From what I could tell, she was as cunning and strong as he was, but it was true that she seemed to have no interest outside of furthering his career. What a chilling loyalty. I shivered to think of being on their bad side.

But, if I ended up favoring Grace as the heir to the Duke's title, I might just end up there. 

...

I entered the large room haphazardly, feeling worse by the second. My headache had come back with vengeance, but as I was leaving to go sleep it off an aide came to tell me that the principal wanted to see me.

"What do you need, Principal?" I asked as I entered.

"As straight to the point as ever, Professor Morgan Eclaire." I watched his smile warily. 

"I apologize; I have a bit of a headache." 

"Ha!" He laughed. "As if that's ever stopped you before." I didn't know how to respond to that.

"What do you need me for?" I repeated, instead. His face fell into cool seriousness easily, and I took a seat on the plush chair across from him. He laced his fingers together, leaning forward on his elbows, as he spoke.

"The Duke commends you for your excellent job so far," he started. I could feel the hatred filter through me at the mention of the Duke.

"Thank you."

"Because of your phenomenal judgment, he's requesting that you report to him your choice for the title of Duke by the end of the month."

It felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over me, and I gasped. 

"He what?!" At the end of the month? He wanted my impression by then? 

But no, it wasn't just my impression, he wanted my  _ choice _ . He was giving me the power to directly influence who inherited the title.  _ Me _ , who was a part of the Eclaire family. Just what was he thinking? Royal politics were dangerous-- was this a complicated way of getting me killed? I wouldn't put it past a member of the Belloway household. 

"Please seat yourself, Professor," the principal said. I looked down in surprise-- I hadn't even realized I had stood up. I seated myself delicately and cleared my throat.

"My apologies."

"No worries, Professor." His eyes held an amused spark, but also something deeper. "Please know that the Duke is not intending any harm to come to you. He merely respects you and wants to know your wishes."

"Why does he... I mean, why does he value my opinion at all? I'm just a professor, and a commoner at that," I stuttered, my words coming out rushed. He wanted an Eclaire of all people to choose? Was he crazy? He had to know how much my family hated royalty. 

"That was the Duke's decision. Now, I understand that you aren't feeling well. I'll allow you to take tomorrow off and rest," he beamed, clasping his hands together before gesturing to the door. Our time here was over.

"It was a pleasure to see you, Principal," I lied as I rose to exit. "Don't worry about the day off. I can handle a little headache." It wasn't like the principal to hand out favors-- the only sweets he knew how to give were disguised poison, and I wouldn't bite. 

"Of course. Then, I readily await your decision," I could practically hear the twinkle in his eyes at those words, though I was no longer facing him.

I had been given the authority to choose the next heir. I bit my lip, eyebrows pulling together sourly.

The Goddess had a funny way of being cruel.

**...**

To keep my cover intact, I decided not to go to my classes as Olivia for the next several days, feigning sickness, though I continued to teach as a professor. Anna continued to visit me every day, asking me all manners of questions about class material though it was obvious she understood it all. Her fake flattery was a little hard to swallow.

It was easy now to see what her game was-- she was trying to win me over so I would choose her brother. It seemed that the news of my new responsibility had spread, but strangely it was only the Belloway twins that were increasing their advances.

While Annakin tried to hit on me every day after class, Grace's attention seemed to be slipping elsewhere. She tapped on her notebook impatiently during class, participating to the bare minimum and leaving almost immediately when my lecture ended. 

I felt my eyebrows knit together. It didn't make sense-- she should have been trying to get closer to me, convince me of her superiority. Though Annakin and Anna were annoying, what they were doing made sense. 

Just what was she planning?

...

"May, seriously, I'm fine." It was the first day 'Olivia' was back from her sickness, and May wouldn't stop clinging to me like a forlorn puppy. Elizabeth chuckled as she readied her sword, intent on beating me. We were supposed to be sparring each other, today. "Seriously, if you don't move, you're gonna get hurt." May turned to glare at Elizabeth.

"Liz, you can't hurt her! She just got over being sick," she whined, clutching me painfully.

"I think she's more in danger of you than my sword, May," Elizabeth scolded her. "Annoying as it is, I'm no match for her swordplay." Though my sword skills weren't great, I had more experience than both of them; because of this, Elizabeth always looked forward to the next time she could fight me.

"May, I'll be fine," I reassured her. May scowled, but took a step back anyway, sulking. 

"I'll beat you this time," Elizabeth promised, readying her sword. I smirked. It was all too easy to sink into my old school persona with this kind of competition.

"We'll see," I told her.

…

"Has anything else happened since then?" Elizabeth asked after our match, wiping the back of her neck with her shirt. I assumed she was referring to the bullying incident. 

"This is my first day back, how could anything happen?" Elizabeth looked at me like I was stupid. 

"You may have the protection of Grace now, but that doesn't mean you're invincible," she let me know. I knew that, but if things got  _ too _ bad I was sure I could protect myself. I would still have to hold back against students, though.

People had some rather interesting theories about Olivia, at this point. Because of my lack of sword skill, the idea that I was the principal's kid, or, more ironically, Professor Eclaire's kid, was garnering attention. It made sense that they would be able to bribe me into the school. It also helped explain why I had caught the impenetrable Grace Belloway's attention.

This led to new consequences. Essentially, two new factions had formed: those who liked Olivia and those who didn't. A part of those who liked me were my friends, May and Elizabeth, along with Martin and some others, as well as people who were friends with Grace (there happened to be a lot of those) who felt that if she was protecting me they should as well. Everybody else, like people who were jealous of Grace or jealous of me because I was close with Grace, or even jealous because I had gotten myself into their beloved academy though I had no real skill, actively hated me and loved to find ways to inform me of it.

After the incident in the hallway, it had proliferated throughout the school that I was under the protection of Grace Belloway. Though this probably exasperated lots of people's hatred toward me, it also allowed me to live my days in relative peace, because people were too scared of Grace and those loyal to her to lash out at me.

Honestly, I had no idea why Grace was so fascinated with me. Recently I had been growing more and more confident that she didn't suspect Olivia to be Professor Eclaire at all; instead, she seemed curious about her. It made sense, as I had ended up becoming a lot more famous than I had expected, but it was still odd that she had taken an interest in me. 

"...Grace Belloway is looking at you," Elizabeth whispered, and I whipped my head around. Sure enough, Grace was standing somewhat off to the side as her two siblings fought, her gaze pointed in my direction. 

Just then, Professor Thurman's voice rang out:

"Finish it up! Class gets out in five minutes. Miss Delton, could you please come see me for a second?" A few curious students glanced my way as they ended their matches, a particularly disdainful group of girls looking rather smug. 

I approached Professor Thurman, and he gestured to his office.

"We'll talk there," he told me. I followed him in.

"What's going on?" I asked, first thing, because the looks those girls had given me had put me on edge. 

He leaned against his desk, sighing tiredly. 

"Some students told me recently that you were doing some... illegal things while you were supposedly out sick." I raised my eyebrows, and he held his palms out defensively. "I know, I know; it's ridiculous. But I told them I would look into it, so I had to call you back here."

"So, what, we just have a nice chat and you tell them it's bullshit?" I crossed my arms. I wasn't even angry-- the aggression of a few little girls was no more than a hindrance. That didn't mean it wasn't annoying. Professor Thurman stared at me.

"Be careful, Morgan. That's all I'm saying. I'll handle this for you, so don't worry about that, but I have the feeling that someone is planning something big. You should be fine as Olivia, but for the twenty hours a day you're Professor Eclaire you should be on your guard." This time, it was my turn to sigh. I studied the ceiling.

"That's all everyone's been telling me lately.  _ Be careful _ . It's... unpleasant." I didn't like their concern; I was perfectly capable of handling myself. Silence filtered through the air. 

"The principal has been acting weird when people mention your name, recently," he finally said, voice low. "What did he tell you the last time he met with you?"

I paused, examining Thurman. He was trustworthy, that much I knew; but I wasn't sure if I wanted to get him involved in my mess. He squinted at me as if he knew what I was thinking.

"Don't even, Morgan. You know I'm always on your side. Katarina, too. Let us help you." I let the breath I didn't realize I was holding out. 

"...The duke gave me the authority to decide the next heir." 

The bang that resonated through the small was audible.

"That damn Duke!" Thruman yelled. I rounded on him.

"What are you doing!" I hissed, trying to quiet him down. "The kids might start to think you're beating me or something." He closed his eyes, the muscles in his jaw ticking.

"Does he realize how much danger this places you in? Is he trying to erase the last of the Eclaire family?" I bit my lip.

"...It isn't a far-fetched idea. Still, it's a rather risky way of trying to eliminate me." When Thurman opened his eyes again, concern reflected in them.

"Sure-fire, though. People will be after your life no matter who you choose. If you pick Annakin, nobles in Grace's faction will come after you. If you pick Grace, the same fate awaits."

"..." I leaned back against his desk, staring at the ground. After a while, he joined me, our shoulder brushing. 

"Who are you going to choose?" He asked after a while, voice quiet. I let my head tip back at his question, fingers playing with the edge of the table.

"...Probably Grace," I admitted. 

"It does makes the most sense," he agreed. "She's perfect. Annakin, in comparison... Well, there's no doubt he has talent, but..." I nodded. The tricky blood of the royal family ran through his veins, after all. If anything, Grace was the exception. 

"I did hear he was good with the sword, though. Of course, I couldn't really see it, what with his sparring sessions with his sisters. He looked... hardly average, to me, but Elizabeth told me that he had beat Martin before," I deliberated, running the memories through my mind. Thurman scoffed.

"There's no way Martin wouldn't beat that boy in a fair match," he asserted. I blinked.

"Does that mean..."

"It was probably rigged, yeah. He has a reputation for that sort of thing." I sighed, pinching my nose with my fingers. 

"I hope I don't regret this," I mumbled.

"You definitely will," Thurman said. 

**...**

I left Thruman's office slowly, wringing my lip between my teeth. When I finally glanced up, I stopped short.

"Grace," I said, surprised. I straightened myself, smiling cordially, before I realized that I still looked like Olivia and didn't need to be proper. She studied me, her eyes tracing my figure. I adjusted myself under her stare, a bit self-conscious though I knew she couldn't see through the glamor. 

"Do you want to... take a walk with me?" I offered, approaching her. I still needed to make up for the other day, when I had upset her. She nodded, pivoting away. I followed after her obediently.

Our walk was silent, and as she led me through the winding academy hallways I found myself staring at her back and her shimmering hair, the color I had promised myself to detest. Somehow, on her, it was... hauntingly pretty.

That didn't break my resolve, however. I would be a poor excuse for a daughter if I let her seduce me once again. 

When we reached our destination, an empty classroom that presumably wouldn't hold another class for a while, I reached out and touched her silver locks.

"...It's so beautiful," I murmured. Grace laughed, though her smile didn't touch her eyes, and swept into the room.

"That's the first time anyone's told me that with such deep-rooted hatred in their eyes," she said. I followed after her calmly.

"I wanted to apologize for the other day," I started, referring to when I accused her of plotting. When she faced me, her expression was more controlled.

"I wonder what it is about this hair that obsesses you so much," she cut in, twirling a strand in her finger. We were standing less than two feet apart, and the light filtering in through the window lit her back and gave her light hair an ethereal glow. She looked like a goddess descended from the heavens.

That is, if it were the goddess of death.

"...It's nothing," I said, sighing, "I just think that it's a pretty color." She hopped up on a desk, tipping her head back, and again I was caught in her beauty. 

She crossed her legs over one another, the movement fluid and practiced, and I wondered for a moment how many hours she must have put into refining herself so she could be the perfect woman everyone expected. How lonely an existence that must have been.

"Don't apologize for that," she said, her lips twisting, "it was my fault, after all. I had been plotting something, after all." I didn't know what to say about that. I had been giving her the easy way out-- I knew she had planned our encounter, there was no way she hadn't. Grace Belloway was someone who did things only if they benefited her and her goals. But still, to admit it so readily showed a side of her I hadn't been expecting. 

"I know," I admitted, stepping towards her and resting my palms on the adjacent desk. She cocked her head at me, eyes dark.

"If you knew, why did you come with me today? Involving yourself with me is just going to make things harder for you," she mused, laughing mockingly, though it sounded sad. She was right: by getting close to her, I had become the target of half the school. But how could I tell her the truth about why I had gotten close to her in the first place?

I wondered how long I could keep up this facade. Surely, after I reported my decision at the end of the month there would be no need for me to continue living as Olivia. The thought made my throat clench up. I would need to end this... whatever this was, now.

Moments with Elizabeth and May, and... Grace, admittedly, ran through my mind as I reminisced, staring out the window that lit Grace's hair so stirringly. Grace never so much as looked at me anymore as Professor Eclaire, and her reason for noticing me in the first place was probably because of my power over the inheritance. It would be naive of me to assume she had joined my healing class for any other reason. After I chose her as the heir, there would be no more reason for her to involve herself with me. The only time I could be with her was as Olivia.

_ Don't be immature, Morgan _ , I scolded myself. I had known her for hardly a month as Olivia, and she was techincally among my sworn enemy; part of a bloodline I had made an oath to despise until the day I died. My infatuation with her would fade as fast as it developed.

"Thank you for saving me, that day." I changed the subject, not ready to talk about my intentions. Grace glanced away, and I felt a pang of guilt for ignoring her question.

"I just happened upon the scene. It's the duty of a noble to enforce the rules," she assessed, her voice strikingly indifferent. It cut deeper than I expected it would.

"I see," I laughed, though there was no real conviction behind it. "Thank you, anyway. I appreciate it."

It felt like the air was slowly getting harder to breathe. I would give my decision to the principal, and then Olivia would disappear. 

Whatever there had been between us would disappear too, eventually. 

"I'll see you in class, Grace," I said, leaving the room as quickly as I could. I had accomplished my objective: to apologize. There was no reason my heart should have felt as dull as it did.

This was for the best.

_ Father, please guide me. _

...

The principal wouldn't meet with me until the end of the month.

The end of the month, that bastard. I wasn't sure how much I could handle seeing Grace during my morning classes as she ignored me, and during the afternoon classes when she treated me as Professor Eclaire. The relationship between us during those times was strictly professional. 

Particularly, now, as she stood in front of my desk after class had gotten out. Anna, surprisingly, had left early today, which meant I had been free to leave-- that is, until she rose and descended down the lecture hall like the Goddess herself and stared directly into my eyes with the hypnotizing gaze she exuded. I flattened my expression, chilling it to the stone I was she her entire body was carved out of.

It wasn't  _ fair _ to be that stunning.

"Yes?" I asked, packing up my things.

"Professor, I had a question about the midterm," she spoke, her voice not indicating that she was anything but serious. I sighed; she was a top student, after all. It wasn't unusual to approach a teacher like this. If anything it was unusual that she had waited so long.

That was probably on purpose too, though. If I knew anything, she was the epitome of fair. Even if her brother would stoop to cunning tricks, she probably liked to go about things in a more direct manner. To be honest, I liked her approach better than her brother's... advances. I shivered in recollection of his aggressive flirting. 

_ Do you like this approach better, truly? _ My mind reminded me of the intimate moment we had shared, and my lips prickled as I imagined her passionate kiss. 

"I'm happy to answer your questions," I said with a fake smile, shoving my thoughts back into the deepest recess of my brain.

As she listed off questions, writing down the answers I gave her in an elegant hand in her notebook, my mind wandered again. After I chose her, then what? It seemed naive to assume that things would just end there. If the Duke truly was trying to get me killed, there was no way it would end at that. 

"Anna?" The door swung open loudly, snapping me out of my conversation with Grace. I lifted my finger from her notes, where I had been explaining a particular concept, and leaned back.

"Annakin, what is it? If you're looking for your sister, she isn't here," I let him know. He stayed uncharacteristically silent, glancing between Grace and I. Without a word, he turned to leave.

A deep chill ran down my spine as I saw the expression on his face as he turned.

_ There was no way... That he thought I chose Grace just after seeing us interact one, right?  _ I touched my face self-consciously.

_ A master manipulator can tell the truth from behind any situation _ , my father had told me once, bouncing me on his leg soothingly.  _ Don't ever try to hide something from one; they can tell instantly. It's better just to tell the truth. _

I caught my breath. His advice, however innocent then, was foreboding now.

_ He couldn't have thought...  _

But if he did, I was screwed.

When I finally turned back to Grace, head spinning, I noticed that she had been studying me blankly. 

"I'm sorry about the interruption, what was it that you wanted me to explain, again?" I asked, though I wasn't sure if I was in the right mindset to help at all. She took a step back, closing her notebook and smiling genially.

"I should be the one to apologize-- he is my brother after all. Anyway, thank you for your help, Professor. I should get going."

"Ah, right... Have a wonderful day," I greeted, waving as she pivoted to leave.

_ It's nothing you weren't expecting. He would be angry at you after you announced your decision, anyway. _

_ Yes _ , my internal self rebutted,  _ but that would be after you made your official declaration. You still have yet to make the decision formally. Which means... _

Which meant that he could still silence me now.

...

A week had passed, and still nothing had happened. To say I was on edge would be an understatement. I couldn't even ask for time off, or protection, because the principal still refused to see me until the end of the month. I bit my lip in worry as I did squats next to May and Elizabeth, trying not to notice how Grace was only a few meters away from us.

"Are you okay, Olivia?" Elizabeth asked, her legs shaking as she tried to keep up with my pace. I slowed down a bit.

"Y-yeah? What do you mean?" 

"I just wondered if you and Grace had a fight," she explained. May, on my other side, nodded vigorously. 

"Mhm," she agreed, "you should make up with her." I grinned at her innocence.

"There's no way I can do that," I told them. It was so... complicated. Not only was she my sworn enemy, my family's sworn enemy, but someone I would have to cut out of my life in less than a month. I couldn't afford to get attached. Elizabeth and May seemed to misunderstand my words. May squinted at me.

"Even though both of you keep secretly sneaking glances at each other when your backs are turned?" She said, bluntly. I blinked in surprise, a blush heating up my face. 

"I thought... I had been restricting myself," I admitted. I only allowed myself to look at her when it made sense, such as when I was scanning the room. Elizabeth shook her head, looking at me as if I were pitiful.

"Alas, you were not. It's painfully obvious," she grimaced.

"I thought you were good friends, though?" May said, and Elizabeth tsked at her. 

"Don't try to predict matters of the heart, May, it'll only end up confusing you," she said solemnly, which only served to confuse May more. My ears felt as if they were on fire. 

"New topic!" I beamed, picking up the speed.

"Ow, ow, ow, fine-- slow down," Elizabeth complained, although she was smiling too. 

"Listen," May gasped, easily distracted, "the other day, Martin..."

I smiled softly as she gossiped, appreciating her earnestness. 

I would miss these moments, chatting with May and Elizabeth, running god knows how much for hours on end under the glinting eye of Professor Thurman and laughing, collapsed on the ground after it was over. Pretending not to stare at Grace as she sparred with others, wickedly agile, with Elizabeth poking fun at me all the while. The normalcy of a school life I never experienced, one I never knew I wanted, one that would end in no more than a couple of weeks.

Before our talk, back when Grace still stared openly at me, I would catch her gaze and our eyes would lock in silent recognition for seconds that seemed like hours. I never knew how much I missed those blue-blue eyes staring into mine. 

The burn in my legs was dull compared to the pain I felt in my chest at the thought. 


	6. ask her to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which she doesn't.

It was bold of them, I thought as my shoulder stung from being slammed into the wall, to approach me like this though they knew I was under Grace Belloway's protection.

_ If I was even under her protection anymore _ .

After seeing that we no longer talked, maybe they got confident that nothing would happen from harassing me. It was common in this school for noble girls to attack commoners or those they didn't like, because they themselves were under constant oppression and supervision. It was like a stress-relieving game for them.

Apparently, one I was starring in.

The girls stared bitterly down at me, and I recognized one of them to be the blond from before. The hatred in her eyes burned through me.

"I hope you're happy," she hissed, tears pricking at her eyes. 

"Hmm?" I asked, trying to restrain my teacher's instinct. Amazing how my bloodlust could vanish so easily from seeing one of my students start to cry. 

"She... she hates me now!" She wailed, slamming me into the wall again. I winced when my soft flesh bit into the hard material; I would surely bruise, later. 

"Have you tried talking to her?" I offered, attempting to smile even though my body was wracked with pain. Whatever magical reinforcement she was using, it worked: her professor should get a gold-star. My breathing was starting to get heavy. As she pressed me into the wall, her heavy mana battling against my fragile, passive body and draining my energy. I almost wanted to unleash my magic to protect myself-- trying to resist magic with just your body was almost impossible--, but that would only serve to wrack the student with the pain I was currently feeling. It would manifest on her tenfold because I was much more powerful than she was, damaging her severely. There was no way to get through this without harming her except by enduring it. 

I had been through worse, anyway.

"She won't even... she won't even look at me," the blond ground out, her eyes puffed from emotion. "Do you know how privileged you are? How hard it is for a normal student to even talk to her at all? You're so... lucky! And you treat her attention like it's nothing!" Jealousy was a scary thing. 

"Hey, it's okay," I soothed, reaching out to her, wanting to brush the hair that had fallen before her teary eyes behind her ear. The girls behind her looked nervous, which I should have taken as a warning.

Still, I was stupid and soft-hearted for my students. 

"Don't touch me!" She screamed, shrill in my ear, catching my wrist and bending it backward. I felt the snap before it reverberated through the air, and her shocked expression filled my spotty vision as she threw me against the wall and backed up hastily. "Shit," she murmured. Or maybe she didn't-- I couldn't hear very well through the ringing in my ears and the pain in my body. 

"Let's go," a girl said, putting her hand on the blond's back and leading her away.

_ Wait _ , I wanted to say, but I couldn't find my voice,  _ please tell me your name _ . To bully me like this, to snap like this, she had to be under incredible stress. I wanted to make sure she was able to find the support she needed before she ended up lashing out again.

The pain radiated through my body, and the only good thing about it was that it shocked my tired body out of passing out. Instead, I curled up on the floor, grinding my teeth together in an attempt to deal with the burn in my back and the agony in my wrist. 

Luckily, it would be unlikely for any more students to pass through this area for another hour. I struggled to get up, the cool floor feeling nice against the stinging in my body and wrist. It felt like hours, though it was probably only minutes, before I was able to shift myself up into a semi-sitting position. 

"Olivia!" I heard a bell-like voice, concern coloring its tone, rush toward me. I couldn't open my eyes, my head and ears and body ringing and pain wracking through me. "Olivia, can you hear me? Olivia?" For a moment, I wondered how she had found me. Maybe she had seen the blonde girl coming from this direction?

"...It's okay," I managed to whisper, so low I was sure she couldn't hear it, as she picked me up and cradled my body in her arms. I rested my head against her neck, sighing. It felt a bit pathetic to have to rely on her not once but twice.

"I'm here now," she soothed, "it'll be okay. I'm taking you to the nurse, now." Her voice was so perfect, and it made my chest ache even more. Sweetly, she whispered words of encouragement as she walked quickly through the halls, letting me know every time she turned a curve or traveled up stairs so I wouldn't be surprised. The gesture, so thoughtful, made my heart clench. 

_ I'm sorry, Grace _ , I wanted to say.  _ I don't regret meeting you or going through all of this. I wish I could be the one to tell you that, but I can't. _

When the door to the infirmary opened, I heard a gasp. 

"Mo-Olivia!" Katarina exclaimed, and I barely managed to open my eyes, my head still resting on the junction between Grace's neck and her shoulder. "Set her down here. Oh Goddess, Olivia, what-- yes, thank you. Could you fetch me the gauze? I need to get this bleeding stopped. Thank you so much, I--" Her words blurred out as the ringing in my ears increased, and I felt the gentle icy touch of her magic on my wrist and the feeling of my bones mending back together.

I concentrated on breathing, timing it to the tick of the clock so I didn't pass out. It would be bad if I lost consciousness here, with Grace still in the room, because my magic would disperse.

"Thank you," I heard Katarina say after a few minutes had passed, the pain in my wrist receding. My back and shoulder still hurt from where I hit the wall, but I didn't want to mention it, knowing Katarina would waste more magic on me even though she had to be fatigued from healing the bones of my wrist. 

"How is she?" I heard Grace ask, quietly, as if she thought I was asleep. Katarina rested a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I had to work so I didn't flinch from the pain.

"She'll be fine. I managed to mend the bone, so it should be fully healed soon. You can leave now, if you need. Thank you again for helping out."

"No, it's okay. I don't have class after this," Grace told her, firmly, and I could feel the power of royalty seeping out of her. Smart move on her part; if she hadn't used it, Grace definitely would have insisted she leave. She was stubborn, for sure.

The power of royalty was impressive. Katarina didn't say anything in reply, instead lifting her hand and moving to the back of the room.

"She should still be awake," Katarina informed Grace, "let me know if she starts to fall asleep again." So that she could kick her out of the room. Smooth, Katarina.

"...So you're awake," Grace murmured, trailing her fingers over my cheek. I let my eyes flicker open, regretting the decision immediately.

Her eyes, crystal as a lake in winter, slammed into mine, taking my breath away. They were soft as they gazed at me, but I could see anger hardening them when they moved to my wrist. 

"Does this happen often?" She asked, still looking at my wrist. I could see the real question in her eyes and remembered what she had said to me the day I apologized.  _ Involving yourself with me is just going to make things harder for you _ . 

I had to close my eyes before I could answer her. 

_ No, it doesn't _ , I wanted to say.  _ Don't think that I would ever regret meeting you. _

"You should leave," I croaked instead. I felt her hand stiffen on me before she pulled away.

"I understand," she murmured, and as she left I hated myself more than I could ever hate her beautiful silver hair for being unable to open my eyes and see the pain in her eyes as she walked away.

**...**

Somehow I had managed to fall asleep in the infirmary for the second time in one semester. When I woke up, Katarina moved over to my side wordlessly.

"How are you feeling?" She said, her voice quiet. The mood was somber, which was unusual for her. I cracked a painful smile to attempt to lighten the room.

"Like shit," I assured her, and she returned my grin with a grimace of her own.

"That's not what I meant," she told me, "I meant... whatever that was, between you two." I winced.

"You heard that," I mumbled, a bit embarrassed. 

"I watched the girl walk out with my own two eyes," she assured me, "she looked..." I was grateful when she stopped. Selfishly, I didn't want to know. Yet, a part of me did want to know-- the same part of me that wanted to reach out and grasp her hand as she left, to stop her and sit her down and kiss her and ease the loneliness she danced within.

"Yeah," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else. 

Katarina's voice broke the silence.

"She came back, you know. After you had fallen asleep."

"..."

"I told her she couldn't see you, obviously because your transformation magic had worn off, but she seemed to think..." She trailed off. "I figured it was better that way, so... that's what I said. I told her you had told me you didn't want to see her. I hope that's okay." 

I bit my lip, the corners of my mouth lifting sourly. 

"No, that was perfect, thank you," I whispered, because I couldn't get my voice to raise any more than that.

"Can I ask... why?" She said, gently, as if she were afraid I would break. I wanted to laugh. I, who had witnessed the execution of my father with my own two eyes after he had been framed, break?

More than that, I wanted to laugh at myself for knowing despite all this that any loud movement might do just that. 

"I couldn't ask her to stay," I told her,  _ because if I did I would lose the ability to ever push her away again _ . Katarina leaned back in her rolling chair, folding her hands together on her lap.

"I mean, I get it," she said, "you only have so long before Olivia disappears and... she is the daughter of the duke." I stared at the ceiling. How could I ever forget it? Her silver hair glared at me every time I saw it.

"Yeah," I agreed weakly. "She is." Katarina sighed.

"Being an adult is so complicated. Wouldn't it be nice to be a student again, Morg? To be able to screw around without fear of repercussion, without burdens or responsibilities."

"Do I even deserve to imagine that?" I asked, a self-deprecating laugh bubbling past my lips. To live as Olivia, messing around with Elizabeth and May, feeling the freest I had ever felt before, to be able to smile with Grace, rest in her arms without fear of catching sight of her silver hair, without fear of her brother or the Duke or the Princess or anyone else. 

"...Do any of us?" Katarina replied. 

...

I was able to sit out of a lot of the sparring exercises after initial exercises in Professor Thruman's class, which, unfortunately, gave me the ability to watch everyone in the class. It was small, which didn't leave me with a lot of options.

Mostly I tried to keep my eyes trained on May and Elizabeth, the bruising lacing my body comparable to the dull ache in my chest whenever Grace accidentally crossed my line of sight.

May and Elizabeth came over to check on me periodically, cracking up the terrible smiley face they had managed to draw on the brace around my wrist after stealing one of Professor Thurman's pens from his office. His shoulders were shaking with barely repressed laughter as he scolded them.

"Hey, Olivia, have you noticed?" May said at some point, her doe eyes wide with curiosity. I placated her.

"Noticed what?" 

"Grace," she said, pointing to the direction Grace was standing in. I didn't look.

"What about her?" I asked.

"She seems..." A loud clang resounded through the room, and finally my eyes pulled over to her. She stood low, wiping sweat off her forehead. Her brother, Annakin, had managed to push her back considerably. The one exception to her restraint seemed to be her brother-- she tended to go a lot harder on him than the other students she fought with.

"He's winning?" I gaped. May nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, isn't that weird? I wonder if something happened." Guilt ate up at me-- here I was, wallowing in my misery, trying to distance myself from someone who had been nothing but good to me. 

A few minutes passed, and I noticed her walk by as we were given a short break. I couldn't hold back the nagging urge to make check in on her and approached her as she leaned back to drink from a bottle of water.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, and when her eyes turned to me they were blank. She put her water bottle down, ignoring me completely as she walked by. 

Was this what the blond girl meant when she said normal students couldn't even talk to her? Still, it hurt. I wanted to give up, but I couldn't help but think about what Katarina told me. 

_ She came back, you know _ . 

I was strong enough to submit myself to a bit of pain in order to ensure one of my students was okay-- besides, I owed her. 

I moved fast to catch up to her, but as I reached out I accidentally brushed my shoulder forcefully against the edge of a wall. Pain wracked through me, and my face twisted up as I hunched on the ground. The bruise from that day still hadn't healed because it hadn't been properly treated-- injuries caused by magic tended to be exasperated and stayed longer if they weren't remedied with healing magic. I didn't tell Katarina because I didn't want to strain her after she expended so much magic mending my wrist.

Grace twisted around, panic lacing her expression as she hurried to my side.

"Olivia, shit, what happened?" She crouched next to me, her hands hovering over my body. She hesitated. “May I…?” I nodded weakly. 

She pulled my t-shirt to the side, stiffening. I closed my eyes, knowing exactly what she saw. I had checked myself in the mirror-- I knew how the black and purple bruises snaking from my shoulder to my lower back like a blackened garden of twisted roses looked.

"It's fine," I said, pulling back. "More importantly, are you--" I was cut off as she lifted me in her arms once again.

"Professor Thurman," she called, though Thruman was already jogging toward us.

"I saw her collapse," he said, his eyes flickering to me with concern. I bit my lip in embarrassment.

"I'm going to take her to the infirmary," she let him know, and he nodded.

"I'll excuse both of you from class. Olivia, don't worry about coming to class until you feel better." I nodded weakly, the stares from my classmates stabbing into me. I just wanted to get out of here.

Luckily, it seemed that's what Grace wanted as well. 

"I can walk," I told her, "you don't need to carry me." She glared down at me as she moved, and I felt another pang of guilt when I saw the worry reflected in her eyes. I had rejected her twice and she still cared enough to help me out.

She didn't deserve someone like me, so weak that I felt rage every time I saw the beautiful silver hair that fractured light like a prism, wisping the rainbow to frame her face like the sparkling mist over a waterfall. My fingers longed to brush it away, jealous of the wind because it could caress her skin when they couldn’t.

_ There is strength in mercy _ , my father had once told me, though that was before his lover, my mother, had been executed by the Princess’s orders, before those same ruthless words came to claim his own life. 

Because in his final moments, he renounced them, promising his hatred toward the royal bloodline and making an oath to curse them even in death.

I, the orphaned daughter he left behind, had nothing to latch onto but that hatred. 

I wouldn't so easily let go of it.

_ There is strength in mercy _ . Bitterly, I reminisced upon those glacial words. How naive I was when I still believed them to be true.

**...**

"How can I let you walk?" She glared at me. "With bruises like those, it would be painful even to stand." I closed my mouth, staring forward as I rocked from the movement of her gait while in her arms. Somehow, still, my heart fluttered in our proximity, as if I were a child meeting her puppy love.

"You didn't answer me earlier," I mumbled, glad that she wasn’t looking at me so she couldn't see my burning ears.

"I decided I'd pick up your habit of avoiding questions," she rebutted. I bit my lip, not able to deny that.

"I saw your... sparring match with Annakin," I tried again. She sighed, and the sound traveled straight through me. I tried not to squirm; now was not the time. 

"I'm not injured," she let me know. 

"Oh," I squeaked. So then, why had she lost? Grace seemed to have read my mind.

"I was distracted," she said. 

"Oh." I felt guilty of the relief that clouded my chest at her words-- I didn't have the right to worry about her, to want her to be happy when I was supposed to despise everything she was. 

I knew I needed to remember the rage I felt whenever I saw the proof of royal blood, the feeling of terror when both my mother and father were executed innocently and I was left orphaned at barely 8 years old, stripped of title and land. 

Still, I couldn't bring myself to feel that rage now, and instead, I gazed at her sparkling hair with fresh eyes. They way it managed to dance under the dim light of the hallway, cascading down her back in streams my hands yearned to run through, made it hard to focus. 

"It really is pretty," I told her, my voice hoarse. "This time, you can know I didn't say it with any deep-rooted hatred." A beat passed, as if she didn’t quite believe me. 

"Maybe just a little, then," she sighed, and I giggled, the sound wet.

"Maybe a little," I agreed. For some reason, at that moment, everything felt okay, even though I knew it wasn't.

"Why didn't you tell m-- Miss Niel about the bruises?" I snuggled into her chest again, feeling bold. It was something I had been doing often, recently, though under less-than-desirable circumstances. 

"I didn't want her to use any more magic than she needed," I informed her, breathing in her flowery scent. She stiffened at my answer, pausing for a moment before resuming her walk to the infirmary.

"She's a nurse, Olivia," Grace spoke, her frustration barely concealed. "She's trained to handle that kind of strain. This... this is serious." The way her voice dropped did flippy things to my stomach.

"I know," I breathed.

"If this was May, or Elizabeth, or someone, you would make sure they got treated, right?" I was sort of flattered that she had bothered to remember my friends' names.

"Of course," I asserted.

"So why wouldn't you get it treated yourself?" I quieted down; I didn't have an answer she wanted to hear. She lowered her voice. "Value yourself more, please." I was really glad she couldn't see my face-- I didn't want to know what kind of expression it held.

"I don't deserve it," I whispered. "And you, you should hate me after all of the things I've done. You've only shown me kindness, and all I've done is treat you horribly without any explanation." 

"You haven't treated me horribly," Grace said, voice soft, "you smiled at me when everyone else was too scared to, apologized when I was the one at fault, asked if I was okay after I ignored you. You... still looked at me every day, even though you look as if you’re being stabbed every time you see my hair." 

"You don't want to know why?" I asked, voice so quiet I doubted she could even hear it.

"I don't need to. You are under no obligation to tell me your secrets," she replied, equally as gentle. 

I felt tears prick at my eyes. What a stunning sense of justice she had; truly, she would make an excellent duke. Her ability to treat others fairly, recognize her own mistakes, and forgive was phenomenal. I could only wish that I had her maturity when I was a student myself.

No, I had been lost in the rage my father had bestowed upon me, intent to collect my revenge for his death.

While my friends had enjoyed their lives, I had toiled. It was only now after meeting May and Elizabeth and Grace that I realized how much I had been missing out on, blinded by my anger.

And even still, I couldn't cast it aside. It was all I had left of the father I loved.

Even if it threw me into despair, I would never forget my oath.

"This is becoming a habit, I see," Katarina said as Grace entered the infirmary for the third time that semester with me cradled, princess style, in her arms.

"I hope not," I muttered as Grace set me down on one of the beds.

"What's the problem this time?" Katarina asked as she snapped on a pair of gloves. Grace pulled my shirt down slightly, and I flushed red at her touch. Katarina gasped.

"M-Olivia! What the hell!" I winced at her shrill voice.

"I didn't want you to drain more mana after mending my wrist," I explained. She gaped at me.

"If I didn’t know you so well, I would have thought you insulted me just now," she hissed, laying her hands over my back and letting her cool magic seep into my flesh. I stiffened at her words.

"Rina," I ground out under my breath, and her eyes widened. Grace had definitely heard that. 

“Uh,” she stuttered. 

"It's why I call her Rina," I lied, "she used to be a nurse for my household before she worked at the academy." Grace nodded.

"I was also close to a number of my house servants," she related, and I smiled in relief.

"Yes, exactly," I agreed, glaring at Katarina. She was lucky I was a damn good actor.

It took a few minutes to administer the treatment, which I spent in relative silence trying not to notice Grace's piercing stare on me the whole time. It was sort of nice, in a way, because it had been missing for a couple of weeks. It was almost weird how I started missing the most peculiar habits of hers, like her ability to stare at me for thirty minutes straight. 

When Katarina's hands finally lifted off of me, the pain had mostly alleviated but I was still exhausted.

"You should be fine now, but I would take it easy for a couple of days. I don't want to see you back here in at least another month," she scolded. Then, she turned to Grace. "You, I don't know what's happening here," she gestured between us, "but I love this delicate maiden more than anything in the world, and although she may be stubborn and annoying and hot headed at times, she's the most wonderful and sincere friend I've ever had. So. Take care of her." 

Grace's eyes widened, baffled at the confrontation, and I covered my face with my hands in embarrassment.

"I'm not... like that... anymore," I protested weakly. 

When I lifted my hands, I noticed that the corners of Grace's mouth had quirked up.

"On my honor," she promised. I felt myself stiffen at her words-- to swear an oath upon her family name, upon the name of her royal blood and her father’s land, was to tie herself to her word. If she broke it, nothing but death would await her; she would be forced to end her life by her own hand to preserve her family’s honor. Katarina looked shocked, too, but she quickly regained her composure and nodded tautly in reply.

_ On my honor. _


	7. on her honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which family stifles.

I measured my breathing, closing my eyes as Grace and Katarina spoke quietly with each other. I needed to make a decision; I couldn't go on like this.

I either needed to cut Grace off completely or accept her. The way it was now, so wishy-washy, was only hurting both of us.

Some deep part of me was screaming to push her away-- beyond everything else, down to the bare bones, she was my enemy. That wasn't something that could be broken easily.

The utter desolation I felt when I thought of the royalty that stripped me of everything was consuming, like a quicksand of darkness that wouldn't let go. I felt trapped in my own head at times, screaming nightmares shaking me awake when I pictured my father's warm eyes drained cold, his head rolling across the wooden stage. His last words.

_ I will never forgive you, -- _

I shook myself out of it before the thought could continue. Now wasn't the time for that sort of mind-wandering.

Instead, I thought of May, her ecstatic smiles and whimpering eyes, how she somehow always managed to hurt herself at least once a day, her clumsy actions and willful words. The smiles she handed out easily, which somehow always reached her eyes, her sincerity. Elizabeth would tease her by calling her a puppy-dog, which she would pout and deny, but her eyes always sparkled underneath her faux upset.

Elizabeth crossed my mind next, the just-as-reckless and steadfast friend who had been the first to approach me. Although she was often foolish too, she became the mother figure when it came to May. Always worried, always putting in her full effort, and always with an impish grin when a new round of simmering gossip came around.

The two of them together were wonderful friends, and all I could do was wonder what things would have been like if I were truly a student alongside them.

I glanced at Grace, her hair shimmering in the light as she moved to fetch something Katarina had requested. Slowly, it seemed, she was becoming Katarina's lackey-- no thanks to me, of course. It was a bit funny to see Grace's slightly frustrated face whenever she couldn't find one of the medicinal ingredients Katarina required, and Katarina's amused scolding whenever Grace messed up. It was probably the first time Grace had ever been scolded by faculty at the school before.

That was just how Katarina was. I loved her to bits and pieces for it, although it had a tendency to get us in trouble; I could imagine how much trouble she would get in for talking to the duke's daughter like this.

Katarina herself would never admit that she liked Grace. If I tried to ask, she would probably say something like, "she was standing around, so I gave her something to do."

_ Well _ , I mused as I watched them interact,  _ I guess there's no harm. Grace seems to be enjoying herself. _

...Grace.

Grace Belloway, the daughter of the very Duke Belloway who had plotted alongside the royal princess and caused the death of my father, a woman of the accursed royal blood I had pledged an oath to despise until I joined my family’s grave.

Grace Belloway, whose strong sense of justice had caused her to stand up for a girl she had never met before and cast her gaze downward when I thanked her for it, perhaps the first thank-you she had ever received; who was destined to nurture and guide the lives of thousands and millions of her people, whose scripted notes and fatigued eyes relayed just how much effort she put into it; who was renowned as a prodigy, a perfect student, yet never cracked under the pressure; who would frantically put away the glass jars of medicinal leaves Katarina ordered though her status placed her above it; whose blue-blue eyes flashed with worry as she saw my battered body, willing to place her pride on the line for my sake; who would clutch me close to her chest in desperation despite that I had pushed her away so thoroughly; whose kisses made my head spin and my heart race-- Grace Belloway, who I knew I could never really give up.

It was as if there was an invisible string, or a curse, trying us together. No matter how much I tried to escape it, I would always be pulled into her orbit.

Her crystal irises were like a clear lake, tumultuous with emotion that she hid in ice. I wanted to reach out, cradle her face in my hands and stare into them belligerently, tell her I understood, that everything was okay, that she didn't need to be lonely because I was here.

But I couldn't.

"Olivia?" Grace's hitched breath brought me from my thoughts, and I flushed red when I realized what I had done.

I pulled my hand from the side of her face, hiding it behind my back. Lost in thought, I had ended up moving to Grace's side, caressing the side of her face with a gentle touch.

Katarina's shocked expression let me know that she had seen it, too. Annoyingly enough, instead of teasing me about it, she just turned away. I ducked my head, ears burning in embarrassment. A delicate hand lifted my face, forcing my disguised brown eyes to meet blue.

I felt my throat close as I thought for the first time that I wished she would look at the real me, Morgan Eclaire, like that. I felt like a fraud, hiding my own much grayer blue eyes from her with magic. Something I didn't recognize built up within me, and I was unable to bear it, squeezing my eyelids shut. How could I dare to look at someone as pure as her with a face painted in lies?

I wished this could be real. But I knew, in my heart, that at the end of the month Olivia would disappear and Grace’s soft gaze would never brush against mine again, because I would be nothing to her but Professor Eclaire, the mage who had helped her inherit the Duke's title.

A business transaction.

If I could rewind time, I would warn myself not to look into her eyes the first day I met her as Olivia, because that's the first time I thought perhaps I could dare to become her friend. I would tell myself not to kiss her back in the warm sun that filtered through the window in the classroom that day, because that's the first time I thought of her as a woman.

And finally, I would tell myself not to let myself stare at her as she walked away, because that's the first time I realized that I wouldn’t regret the painful moments at all.

It wasn’t love; something as monopolistic and twisted as this couldn't be, not when I still saw the deeds of her ancestors every time I caught a glimpse of her hair like white roses.

I wasn't in love with Grace Belloway.

And yet, despite knowing that I would have to give her up in barely two weeks' time, I wanted to feel the warmth of her body once again, even if just for a moment.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the warm droplets stream down my cheeks. My chest ached, and all I could do was clench my fists and know that, through all of the unfairness, through all of the pain and the loneliness, I would eventually have to let her go.

"Please look at me," Grace whispered.

Worse than all of that, I knew that in spite of all of this, in spite of the fact that the pain I felt now would only grow worse if I didn't cut her off now, I was going to continue to let her whisk me away until our time was inevitably cut short.

I lifted my eyes to meet hers.

**...**

My smile was watery as she examined my tears with a concerned gaze, her hands moving to caress the sides of my face as if I were a delicate glass doll. Our bodies were close, almost touching, and I felt my hands clench against the fabric of her shirt.

"You are breathtaking," I told her, voice brittle and high from crying. Though my tears blurred my vision, being so close to her allowed me to see how beautiful she really was. Her eyes of justice, which saw everything with fairness and compassion. Her mouth which told no lies, only scalding truths, lips I knew were wasted pressed against my own when they could be doing something like changing the world. Her soft skin was supple beneath my fingertips, and a wobbly giggle escaped me despite myself.

How naive I was, to think I could escape this face, these hands, this person.

It was as if the Goddess placed a curse upon the Eclaire family-- to kill all of us until only I was left, still gift me with strong magic, and place me invariably under the care of one of the royals I detested so much.

I would have to live watching her silver hair for the rest of my life as she rose to the top, after she would cast me aside as a stepping stone. Morgan Eclaire was nothing to her but a tool, and once Olivia disappeared I would have nothing left of Grace Belloway as my own.

"I pray for the day you look at me without only seeing my hair," she said quietly, voice tight. I stepped back, and she let her hands drop from my face. 

"I fear that day will never come," I replied, smile wavering slightly. The room was empty, which meant that Katarina had decided to give us space. I would have to thank her. Grace laughed bitterly, twisting a strand of silver around her finger.

"I wonder when it was that I began to hate my own hair," she said, and I watched her silently.  _ Don’t-- your hair is beautiful _ , I thought. "It was probably long before I met you, though the look in your eyes whenever you saw me only stirred the feeling up more. I don't know what my family did to you, and I know that I can never cleanse my blood completely of the sins I have inherited. Still..." She turned her head wistfully, tightening her grip around her hair so it was straining in her grasp. When it didn't tear, she let it go.

"It may be selfish, but I want to become a good duchess for the sake of my family. So that they may be washed of their sins under my hand. Not so noble of me, is it?" She chuckled, the sound low. "Perhaps I should say that I want to become a benevolent ruler to build from the rubble my blood created; for the people’s sake. But still..."

"We are all slaves to our families, in the end," I surmised, trying to lighten the air with a smile.

"I know my family may have done something horrible to you, but--" She started, and I cut her off.

"Don't say it. I understand." Since I had decided to give in, anyway, I moved so I was pressed up against her, moving my hands to rest on her back. She stiffened before relaxing and wrapping her arms around me. I closed my eyes, breathing in her sweet scent. She was tall and steady and warm, and standing like this felt better than I could have imagined.

I would surely regret this, but for now, I would give in.

"Olivia, I..." she began. I waited for her to finish her thought. When she didn’t, I let my eyes flicker open.

"Hmm?"

"...It's nothing," she replied as she rested her chin on my head. I squeezed my arms tight around her.

For now, everything was okay.

_... _

My body felt oddly light as I scrubbed my hands together under the rather high-end faucets in the staff bathroom. Plumbing was expensive, but it made sense that a place like Sain Clare Academy could afford the magical stones necessary to allow fresh water to stream directly into its facilities.

My heart fluttered when I remembered the embrace Grace and I had shared, and the little bit of her mind she had offered me.

_ I want to become a good duchess for the sake of my family _ . It seemed we had even more in common than I thought-- both of us a slave to our blood, to our family's wishes. All anybody wants is their parent's happiness.

Her eyes swarmed with determination, someone who knew what they wanted and would cut anyone down who got in her way. They looked a lot older than her youthful appearance suggested.

"Professor Eclaire!" I heard someone call my name as I exited the bathroom, and I swirled around. 

"Professor McGowan, it's a pleasure as always," I greeted. A matronly smile pulled up the dark mauve lips of the older woman, and she took to my elbow as we walked through the hallways.

"I've been hearing some interesting things about you lately, professor," she gossiped. Professor Florence McGowan was an older woman who taught in the academic sector of the academy. I had taken a few of her classes when I was a student, and she was a part of why I was currently working at the academy. 

Although we were friends, she wasn't someone I could afford to be casual with, not like Thurman or Katarina. 

"Oh?" I baited. It was always fun to hear rumors about yourself, even if I knew what they were.

"Yes," she gasped facetiously, "some students have been telling me about your new daughter, Olivia, who recently transferred to the academy." This time, I laughed. She grinned, too.

"Ah, Olivia. A bright child, certainly," I joked.

"I've heard her swordsmanship is particularly tantalizing," Professor McGowan cooed, "falls against everyone but her friends. Really, professor, you're letting me down. How could you lose to a bunch of children?"

"They're a lot scarier than you think,” I assured her, remembering Martin's particularly daunting demeanor. "Besides, it would be bad to use magic and give myself away." Professor McGowan clicked her tongue. 

"That's no fun," she lamented, scowling. A light pause filtered through us.

"...Professor McGowan, can I ask you something?" Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but otherwise, her profile stayed perfectly straight. 

"Certainly," she allowed. 

"Let's say you're placed in a situation where no one knows who you are, and you meet someone. You get closer with them, but because of their family you know you should hate them, and eventually, you're going to have to disappear from their life anyway."

"Are you saying you met someone while masquerading as a child, professor?" McGowan queried.

"No, no!" I denied, quickly, raising my hands defensively. "Hypothetically." An amused twinkle flashed through her eyes.

"Right. Hypothetically, then. Why doesn't this person just separate themselves from their new friend? It would be less painful in the end," she considered.

"Yes, but..."

"But they can't do that?" She supplied.

"..." This was embarrassing. But I knew that Professor McGowan would never make fun of me for something like this, even if it was as ridiculous as creating a hypothetical for something we both knew was real.

"Well, dear, if that is the case there is only one thing that person could do," she dictated. I perked up.

"What is it?" I asked, biting my lip.

"Come now, professor, don't start that bad habit again," she scolded, and I released my lip, straightening myself again. It was Professor McGowan who had taught me, a young newly commoner girl who had lost her title before she had gained any real etiquette lessons, how to act and talk properly. 

"My apologies. Please, I would love to hear your thoughts on this matter; what should the person in this situation do?" Professor McGowan's lips twitched upwards, and finally she turned her head to face me.

"Why, I would tell them to follow their heart, professor," she said simply.

"I don't understand." I furrowed my eyebrows together. "Their families are enemies, and the person can't just forget that, they can't just deny something they swore their life to. Besides... they're going to leave, eventually. There's no choice." I couldn't stay as Olivia forever. 

Professor McGowan tipped her head to the ceiling, a sentimental sadness seeping into her tone.

"Life is too short not to be happy in the moment, professor. You'd do well to remember that."

**...**

Grace's surprised gasp made me smile as I snuck behind her, pouncing last-minute. She was walking with a few of her friends, and I recognized two of them because they always seemed to be with her. 

"Good morning," I greeted, nuzzling my nose into the back of her uniform shirt.

"Good morning," Grace replied, though her voice sounded a bit strangled. I felt a blush rise slightly to my ears when I noticed her friends were watching us, and I detached myself from her. Grace caught my wrist as I moved away, interlocking our fingers so I couldn't slip away. I wanted to press my shoulder against hers, but I also wanted to introduce myself to her friends.

It was difficult to act like Grace's friend because every time my skin touched hers I was reminded of the day we kissed in the classroom. 

"I'm Olivia." I smiled at the girl nearest to me, a redheaded girl with a kind smile.

"We know," a brown-haired girl from behind her said. "It would be hard to find someone who  _ didn't _ know your name." The redhead nodded, and I winced internally. So much for staying under the radar.

"I'm Hamilton," the redhead told me, and then pointed at the brown-haired girl, "and she's Amanda."

"At your service," Amanda dipped her head in a greeting characteristic of a knight. It was similar to my own manner of greeting, at least when I was Professor Eclaire, and I gasped.

"Are you by chance Amanda Ringard?" I questioned, recognizing her conduct. There was only one real knight enrolled at the academy that I knew of. In fact, once knighted, there was no reason to enroll in the academy-- as Professor, I had heard rumors that she joined to follow Grace. Grace had a plethora of dedicated allies, it seemed.

My own personal greeting was a blend of this knights’ manners-- a touch I had picked up from the memories I had of my father-- and Professor McGowan’s noble decorum. Seeing a knight’s greeting never failed to send a pang through my chest and lift a smile on my lips, and I realized I liked Amanda already.

"The one and only," she grinned, seeming to be happy that I recognized her. Hamilton smiled affectionately at her friend. 

"And, Hamilton," I started, wracking my brain. "What's your last name?" She brightened, seeming to understand what I was getting at.

"Hamilton Charles, of the Charles household," she clarified. I gaped, shooting a glance at Grace, who looked unperturbed. Truly, she was amazing, to have the daughter of a famous general and the daughter of the Prime Minister at her side so casually. Of course, they had probably been selected carefully; she was the duke’s daughter, after all.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I smiled softly at both of them.

"You're much nicer than the rumors suggested," Hamilton mused, and Grace glared at her. She laughed. "I didn't mean it like that-- I just meant that no one really knows what she's like. The whole school is practically buzzing with curiosity." This was the first time I had heard of it. Amanda must have picked up on my confused expression.

"It's because of this chick," she told me, sticking her thumb at Grace. I blinked, baffled at the rude manner with which she addressed the daughter of a duke. They must have been close. "Everyone's too scared to talk to you so no one really knows what you're like. You're an enigma to this school, someone who caught the attention of royalty even though it’s rumored you have no talent to speak of." Amanda's eyes darkened in delight as she said this, and I felt for a moment that I had gotten a glimpse into her real personality.

"Amanda," Grace warned, but Amanda ignored her.

"It makes me want to test you, myself," she said, reaching for the sword at her side. Instinctively, I clenched my hand, the mana inside my body buzzing before realizing my mistake. A normal swordsman would have reached for their hilt so they could defend themselves. Hopefully, this would give her nothing more than a reassurance of my ineptness at the sword-- I hadn’t revealed my magic, after all. 

Hamilton knocked Amanda on the back of the head, and instantly the darkness dissipated, leaving nothing but a coy grin. 

"Don't tease her," Hamilton scolded her, which Amanda also ignored.

"You should be more prepared to respond when you’re threatened,” she addressed me, referring to my lack of outward response. I smiled, noticing Grace’s eyes narrow slightly as she regarded my reaction. If I were Professor Eclaire, I would have responded “ _ fighting is prohibited in the hallway, anyway, so I know you wouldn’t have attacked.” _

“Grace would have handled it,” I replied instead. Amanda broke into laughter at that, Hamilton staring at her outburst with an expression that screamed  _ are you nuts? _

Grace squeezed my hand, and I looked her way. She seemed happy that I was getting along with her friends. I fought the urge to land a kiss on her cheek and instead addressed her friends again.

"Where are you all going?" I asked, because we didn't have Professor Thurman's class today. Besides, I hadn't seen Amanda and Hamilton in his class with Grace-- they must have been in a different period. 

"None of us have class today, so we were going to go into town," she informed me, gesturing to the small purse she was carrying. Sprawled around the academy was a variety of housing-- the east half, and shopping-- the west half. I hadn't been one to go there often when I was a student, but I had visited it a few times before. May and Elizabeth had begged me to go with them, once, but my disguise magic had run its course so I had to say no.

Technically, on Tuesdays and Thursdays I had the majority of my classes with Annakin and Anna. After making my decision about who I was going to support to inherit the title, I had stopped going, because there was really no need to monitor them anymore. Because of that, I was free as well.

"You should come with u--" Hamilton slammed her palm over Amanda's mouth before she could finish.

"Let Grace ask, dummy," she hissed at her, quietly. I blinked and pretended I didn't hear their interaction. It seemed that there was more to Hamilton's calm demeanor, as well. I wasn't sure, but the drop in her words gave me the feeling that she had wanted to say a very different word than 'dummy.'

When I turned to look at Grace, her eyes were already trained on me. I was starting to find her quiet assessments rather endearing.

"Do you want me to come?" I asked upfront. Her gaze flickered to the side for a brief moment. 

"I do," she replied. Amanda gasped. 

"No way, Grace being shy? This should be r--" Hamilton clapped Amanda again. My former impression of Hamilton being the soft-spoken, gentle intellect and Amanda the brash knight was definitely changing. I held back a laugh, and Grace looked less than pleased, though I could see a bit of enjoyment in her expression. She was fond of these two, as well.

As she parted with the other people who had been walking close to her said their goodbyes, but not so close that I felt comfortable introducing myself to them, I realized again just how popular she was. She always traveled in packs, which I now saw wasn't an effort on her part but instead her innate ability to attract other people. I understood-- it was like a magnet pulled me toward her. 

Was this also the power of being a noble? It was the same way with Anna and her twin. 

I shivered. The words my father had spoken to me all those years ago,  _ the presence of a royal _ , filtered through my mind again.

It wasn't until we had arrived in the shopping district that I realized why so many people had been staring at us. Grace was well known-- rather, her blindingly silver hair was. To see such a plain girl holding her hand would have been unusual. 

I had made Olivia's appearance particularly underwhelming on purpose, but apparently Grace liked me despite that. 

My stomach dropped when I realized that Olivia, who was the complete opposite of my real appearance's long strawberry blond hair and steel eyes, might be closer to Grace's type. Even after I went back to being Professor Eclaire there was no way Grace would take an interest in me.

"Olivia," Grace called, completely ignorant to how every time she spoke that name she drove another nail into my heart. 

"Yeah?" I replied, noticing that while I was lost in thoughts all of them had been staring at me. "Oh, sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What did you ask?"

"We wanted to go to a cafe Amanda likes," Hamilton repeated for me, "and we wanted to know if that's okay with you." I nodded.

"I'm fine with whatever you all want to do," I said, and Amanda turned to Grace with a self-satisfied smirk.

"See? I told you she would be okay with it," she bragged. Grace raised her eyebrows at her annoying friend.

"It's still better to ask," she asserted. I watched their interaction curiously, especially when Hamilton's mouth twitched coyly. 

"I'm sure she'd say yes to anything if you asked her to," she sing-songed, and Grace glared at her. I felt a blush rise on my face. 

"Of course I would," I defended weakly, "we're, uh, we're friends." It felt weird to say out loud, and I glanced at Grace for approval. She looked dissatisfied, and I worried for a moment if I had overstepped my bounds. Amanda shot Grace a look, her eyebrows raised, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't figure out what it meant.

"Oh-kay," Amanda finally said, "away we go, then."

**...**

"Do you hear that?" Amanda asked us as we walked toward what I presumed was the direction of the cafe. I craned my neck in the direction of the commotion she was referring to.

A jovial, common-folk type of song had started up nearby, and as we ventured further I could see a number of people strumming homely-looking instruments. A couple of kids had begun to dance a folk dance I recognized around them, and their giggling interweaving with the song, a few adults around them clapping with bright smiles as they spun around. 

I stopped short, the scene oddly comforting to me. Though I had grown up in a noble family, I had lost it when I was still a child, so the common folk and their culture were familiar. Our hands still connected, Grace noticed my lack of movement and paused as well, though Hamilton and Amanda continued walking. After a few steps, they noticed we had stopped.

"Grace?" Amanda asked, a bit confused. When I turned back to Grace, I noticed she was studying me.

"Sorry," I smiled, "I was just reminiscing. We can continue walking now." Amanda squinted at the crowd as if she didn't understand the appeal and Hamilton looked impartial to the spectacle. It made sense, they were nobility, after all; they probably had no idea what was going on. The nobles' mantra was to leave the whims of the commoners to the commoners themselves.

When I stepped forward to join Amanda and Hamilton, Grace tugged me back into place.

"No, we can stay," she said.

"We can?" Amanda seemed surprised, but Grace wasn't paying attention, instead intent on bringing me closer to the festivities. I was baffled, myself.

"It's really fine, I know you aren't used to this kind of--" I gasped when the song changed, abruptly, to one I was intimately acquainted with. The children at the orphanage I had been in often sung it in their loose, childish voices. A wave of reminiscence washed over me, and I struggled to picture their round faces in my mind’s eye. I had been too overcome with my own rage and sorrow to join them, back then. I regretted that now-- though I could hardly remember what they looked like, their joyful giggles echoed in my mind. 

Soon, more people joined in, and the music soared through the air as couples and children danced throughout the small plaza. The sight was magical, strangers coming together to dance in peace and joy, smiling together without any strings attached. A sight wholly unusual for nobles, and for me, because commoners were a rare sight in the student body at Sain Clare Academy. 

"Care to dance, fair Miss?" A youthful voice asked. I looked to the side, expecting to see a boy addressing Grace. Indeed, she was a beauty. Instead, I noticed that the common folk seemed rather averse to Grace and her friends' presence, giving them wide berth. It made sense-- one look at Grace, Amanda and Hamilton and you could tell they were of noble blood. Grace's hair especially stood out.

I glanced down, and saw the hand of a boy no more than 10 years old gracefully extended to me as he wore a toothy grin. If I were a noble, I would probably smile roughly and turn him away, perhaps disgusted by his grubby appearance. But I was no noble, not anymore, and Olivia's plain appearance was probably what gave him the confidence to ask. I placed my hand delicately in his, curtsying politely.

"Of course," I obliged. He grinned impossibly wider and grasped my hand, stumbling as he whisked me away to join a particularly enthusiastic folksy dance. Children's laughter and joy were contagious, and soon I found myself widely smiling along to our clumsy step, heights too different to be compatible.

When I glanced over to where I had left Grace and the others, sunny grin intact, I saw her standing awkwardly to the side, strikingly alone compared to the people around me. I expected her to feel awkward, but she was smiling softly as she watched me. Amanda and Hamilton were close to her, but in comparison, they looked rather uncomfortable.

I found my eyes drifting to her as I danced with my small partner, the rush of happiness from the exercise only elevated from the high her smile gave me. When the song ended, I glanced at her again, biting my lip as I made my decision.

I bowed to my partner as I separated from him. "Thank you for your gallant invitation, sir," I said, and he returned my smile shyly.

I moved quickly to Grace's side, still floaty from the rhythm of the song. Her eyes widened in surprise when I took her hands, pulling her into the commotion. In the rush, I noticed how soft and warm her hands were, how human. 

"Olivia, I don't think this is a good id--" she protested, gasping when I spun her around. At first, the common folk looked a little uneasy, measuring Grace's reaction. When a tentative smile broke out on her face, however, the jovial chatter returned, music decorating the scene like a million tiny petals.

Grace's movements were clumsy, as she had probably never danced to anything like this before, but the slower tempo gave her a chance to get used to it. I giggled at her furrowed eyebrows as she stared at the ground, trying to correct her steps.

I had never before been the one to lead during a dance, but I found I thoroughly enjoyed twisting her around teasingly as she tried to keep up. Her eyes, which were usually cool and reserved, sparkled with surprise and something I couldn't quite put my finger on as we moved around the small space, mingling closely with the people around us. Someone like Grace, with her royal blood, had probably never touched shoulders with so many commoners before. She didn't seem displeased, in fact, she looked almost admiring of the people around me.

"You're always told that the common folk are savages," I whispered, catching her attention. Her eyes bored into mine, perhaps surprised that I knew what she was thinking. "That's what they teach all the nobles." 

"How do you--" I cut her off, placing a finger to her lips. The sensation of her skin left my head feeling a bit floaty, finger pricking with heat where I touched her.

"Miss!" The familiar voice of the boy called out to me again, and I turned as he offered me a braided flower crown. "For your pretty friend," he blushed, and I laughed kindly in return, taking it from him and plopping it on Grace's bewildered head. She chuckled lightly at the gesture and waved at her admirer. He beamed as we twirled away, Grace taking my hand in hers and guiding me by the small of my back, taking control of the dance as it changed to a speedier song.

"Wait, you can't lead, this is too fast," I protested as she twirled me, and she grinned impishly in return.

"I'm a fast learner, my dear rabbit," was all she said as she swept me away in her arms at a frightening speed. I hurried to match her footwork, unable to stop the giggles that escaped me as we competed against each other. 

"Why do you always call me that?" I squinted at her, but there was no malice in my gaze. 

"Because it suits you," she replied, simply. I couldn't see it-- as Morgan Eclaire, there had only been respect and fear; if you had to ask one of my colleagues, they would probably describe me as a panther or a lion. Annoyingly, I found that I almost... liked how Grace could see through me, into the parts that weren't as strong as I always let on.

Even if it meant I had to be called something as fragile as a  _ rabbit _ . 

"...It's embarrassing," I objected weakly once more at the pet name, but she only smiled and picked up the pace.

It was amazing how fast she had picked up the dance, and a testament to the genius she had inherited. When her crown of braided wildflowers began to fall, I lifted my free hand from her shoulder to catch it.

"Better keep this," I chided, "it was given by an admirer." She squinted at me.

"Hmm? So I can assume that the admirer was the one that  _ gave _ it to me? I'll keep it forever, if that’s the case," she replied, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. 

"Don't joke like that," I grumbled, voice a bit breathy, caught up in the intensity of her gaze. The flowers, an entanglement of wildflowers, held blossoms that almost matched the blue-blue of her eyes. It was so entrancing, seeing her flushed from exertion, her usually pristine hair falling into her face as we moved, flowers framing her face like a crown. 

"Who says it was a jest?" She said, tone smokey and low. I felt my heart rate skyrocket, breath hitching. She took advantage of my momentary hesitation to twirl me, and I lost my balance and fell against her, our chests heaving from exhilaration.

Time seemed to slow, the music drowning out when our bodies fell together, lips so close I could feel her labored breaths on my skin. Our eyes locked for an intimate moment, the crystal lake of her irises swirling with a multitude of emotions I couldn't even begin to unravel.

The longing, however, I did recognize, and as I struggled to keep my heart under control I wondered what my own expression was like for her to look at me like that. 

Helplessly, my lips turned up in a gentle smile, and her eyes flickered to them.

**...**

And then the moment was over, as soon as it began, and she pulled me up from the dip. A few people around us whistled at the display, and I hid my burning face in my hands as I realized how close we had been. Grace pulled us out of the crowd, sitting widely on a nearby fountain before taking me under my arms and lifting me. I gaped, swinging my legs uselessly-- I was a grown woman, I hadn't been picked up since I was a child.

"What are you..." I protested, "I'm heavy, don't--" I stopped when she placed me between her legs, wrapping her arms around me to hold me still.

"You're lighter than the textbooks I carry around all day," she assured me, and I glared at her.

"I'm definitely heavier than your textbooks," I asserted, and she shrugged halfheartedly. 

"Doesn’t feel like it," she told me. I gaped at her.

"They're like, 40 pounds tops, I'm definitely over a hundred!" Maybe it was the dance, or maybe I was drunk in her presence, but something about her made my childish side come out. I never acted like this-- a pouty child-- around anyone, even Katarina. Grace hummed, the vibration against my skin feeling way better than it had any right to. 

"I've heard things become easier when you want to do them, little rabbit," she rebutted, and the blush I had been fighting returned with full force.

"I'm sure that doesn't apply to people's weights," I mumbled, hiding my face in my hands. Her laugh, which rumbled through her body, went straight through me-- which totally didn't help. I was supposed to be acting like her friend, not thinking about how much I wanted her to pick me up again-- though perhaps for a different reason. 

_ Nope _ . _ Don't go down that rabbit hole of thoughts, Morgan _ . Right. Self-control.

Grace gently pried my hands off my face, bringing one to her lips and planting a kiss to my knuckles. I startled in surprise, pulling my hands out of her grasp and clutching them to my chest. She chuckled into my hair as I turned my eyes downcast. 

"...Where are your friends?" I wondered aloud after a few beats passed, my eyes scanning the crowd. A few people were sneaking us glances, probably because of how much Grace stood out; she was stupidly gorgeous. Still, Amanda and Hamilton were nowhere to be seen.

"That doesn't shock me. I could imagine why they'd leave," she told me, and I felt a pang of guilt run through me.

"They must have been uncomfortable, I'll have to apologize later," I said, realizing that nobles wouldn't really know what to do in that sort of situation. Though the commoners had accepted Grace with relative ease after I pulled her in to dance, they usually tended to ostracize nobles. 

"No, it's not that," Grace let me know, as if I were missing something. "They probably did it for my sake." I was confused.

"What do you mean?" I tipped my head back to look at her, eyebrows furrowing at the glint in her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," she smiled. I squinted, hating that she was hiding something from me as if I were a child.  _ I'm older than you, you know,  _ I wanted to say.

At that reminder, my heart sunk again. This peaceful atmosphere, Grace's proximity, all of it would be erased by the end of the month. I still didn't know how to say goodbye.

"It's that look again," Grace murmured as she stared down at me. I gazed up through my eyelashes.

"Look?" I struggled to control my expression. It didn't feel as if I had any special look on my face right now.

"Yes," she said, "you always get that look in your eyes when you see me." 

"You mean when I see your hair?" It was the only thing I could think of. But... lately, I hadn't been noticing her hair as often. 

"No, not that one," she sighed. "You look at me as if at any moment I'm going to disappear, like a ghost." My breath caught, and I turned to look down at the ground, my legs swinging lightly between hers. I bit my lip, not knowing how to respond. 

I couldn't tell her; I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.

Was it selfish to want to have her to myself for a few more weeks before I departed? I was always terrible with goodbyes. I stiffened, clutching my hands against the material of her shirt and snuggling my cheek into her shoulder.

I wanted to speak, to tell her it was okay, that that look didn't mean anything, but I couldn't bring myself to lie to her any more than I already was. 

Silently, she rubbed soothing circles into my back. I sniffled, my throat beginning to close up. Something about people rubbing my back always made me cry, and I had to try my utmost not to give in to the prickling sensation in my eyes. 

The rushing of the fountain behind us was soothing, its gentle spray coloring the air with tiny water crystals and staining it with the smell of clean rain. The warm breeze lifted my hair lazily, brushing across my face like a caress. Its comforting sensation somehow made my shoulders stiffen further, shaking with dry sobs.

People would laugh if they saw the regal and perfect Professor Eclaire like this, sniveling in the arms of someone she would inevitably abandon.

I knew it was unfair to Grace, to get closer to her when I knew we would be torn apart. There was no choice, I couldn't stay a student forever, stay as Olivia forever. Even now, I knew I only had an hour at most before the transformation magic gave out. 

If Grace Belloway found out who I really was, there was no way things would be fine. 

Because my family had sworn an oath against theirs, and that oath was thicker than any fleeting feelings could ever be. 

In this world, family was everything. A king would give up the lives of all of his people, all of his land, for his family-- even if he didn’t like them that much. More than that, the people themselves would expect him to. 

In this world, family was more important than anything. No matter how much my heart yearned to release my ideals, there was no way I could give up my father’s dying oath because of an infatuation.


	8. petals like rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which pain comes without remorse.

After what felt like ages of silence, I lifted my head, body heavy from fatigue. I hadn't cried, but somehow I felt emotionally drained.

Even though all I wanted to do was stay in her arms, I knew time was running out before my transformation magic would dissipate. Comfort was meant to be shed. 

"I should go," I sighed, sliding down from the edge of the rather large fountain and adjusting my skirt, which had twisted. Grace examined me, and for a moment I wondered if she would protest and pull me back into her arms. She closed her eyes for a few seconds before jumping down alongside me. 

"I'll walk you back," she said. I started forward, lacing my fingers together behind my back as I walked away from her.

"You should catch up with your friends. Thank you for… for keeping me company, but I can get back okay," I hoped my smile didn't look too forced. Mostly, I was worried that my magic would give out halfway there. I didn't plan on revealing my identity so easily. 

She caught up to me quickly, catching me by the arm. 

"Don't be rash," she cautioned, "it's dangerous to walk alone." I would have agreed with her, but I was plenty strong enough by myself. If anything, being with her would limit me from using my powers-- not that she was weak. ...But really, no one knew how strong she actually was. Even the midterm scores I had seen weren't able to define her true prowess. 

"I'll be fine," I argued back, although I was quickly giving in. I didn't want to leave her soothing company, either. 

"Where are you headed?" Grace asked, and that was the last of it. I smiled at her insistence. 

"Is walking me home a part of your deal with Katarina?" I teased. Her face soured at Katarina's name, though I could tell it was affectionate.

"It might be," she admitted, "though that's not why I offered."

"I know. Thank you," I said quietly. 

Our walk back was spent in comfortable silence, though occasionally I would point something out or a random topic would pop into my head that I couldn't help but ask her about. 

At one point, when I noticed a particularly lovely patch of bluebells in a windowsill, I couldn't help but compare them to her eyes. She had looked a bit taken aback when I said so, but smiled a smile that cut her eyes in half and took my breath away, and then I couldn't speak again for another ten minutes.

We took our time going back to the school, which was where I told her to drop me off, lying about having to talk to a Professor. In reality, I just didn't want to guide her to my real home, which was in a quadrant generally reserved for faculty of the academy. Unfortunately, though our leisurely pace had allowed me to spend more time with her, it also meant that I was struggling to keep my disguise in place. After I hit the four-hour mark, the spell began eating up my mana at an exponential rate. 

I used the folk dance as an excuse to cover up my fatigue. 

"Are you sure you're well enough to be walking around? Miss Niel told you to take it easy for a while-- you should let me take you back home," she asserted, eyebrows furrowing in concern. 

"Really, it's fine," I smiled in return, though it was strained, and did a little spin to show her I was okay. "I'll see you later?" 

"...Yes. Later, then," she yielded, watching me with hawk eyes as I attempted to scramble away gracefully. 

Once I was out of her line of sight, I collapsed inside one of the empty lecture halls, transformation magic dissipating. My reflection changed in the classroom windows, dark hair melting to become strawberry blonde, brown eyes revealing a more leaden color. I sighed, my chest heavy. 

All I wanted was to crawl into bed for a few hours. I glanced at the time, the magically-powered clock on the wall relaying to me that I could indeed rest for a bit longer before I needed to get myself together to teach my class. 

It was a minor healing magic class, so Grace wasn't in it, but that only meant I could actually focus on teaching.

_ Alright,  _ I thought to myself,  _ Game plan: nap, then class, then you can crash again for the night. _

I couldn't stop now.

...

The walk back to my house, which was kind of like a duplex, was a lot longer than usual. Because so much of my mana was drained I felt sluggish and my senses were dulled.

Not that I had much to be concerned about, because this was a relatively safe area, but it still put me on edge. I could feel the paranoia creep up on me as I stepped through the sparse streets. Because only professors lived in this area, it tended to be quiet and have high security. I was being overly cautious. No one was crazy enough to attack a district saturated with professors-- outsiders saw us as monsters, some even thought us divine. Regardless, the general consent was: Scary, don’t go near. 

_ Be careful.  _ The words of my colleagues, like a warning, sifted through my mind. I bit my lip, quickening my pace. I wasn't sure if it was because of my blunted senses or paranoia, but the air felt heavy with someone's gaze. 

Then, I felt a flash of mana-- directed at me. I paused and whipped around, a magical bullet flashing in my vision, expertly aimed at my forehead. I managed at the last second to throw up a shield, and it shattered against my protection. Luckily, because of my enhanced ability to sense magic, I was able to discover it while it was still far away enough to react to.

_ A sniper?  _ I felt my heart rate quicken and my palms grow clammy as my adrenaline skyrocketed.

This was far from the training grounds, so there was no way that it had been a misfire.  _ In fact _ , I noted as I examined the magical residue left on my shield, _ whoever it was used a highly lethal form of bullet-- one that’s strictly prohibited on or near academy grounds.  _ I would have died instantly had it made contact, especially with the lack of mana and magical protections I had after my usage of transformation magic.

_ Shit, _ I cursed internally. I should have left earlier, that way I wouldn't have drained so much mana walking back with Grace. But it was too late now.

Someone was trying to kill me, and I wasn't sure I had the energy to stop them.

**...**

Going home, where I would be alone and defenseless from my lack of magic, was a bad idea. In that case, I only had one option. I ducked into one of the tight alleyways, steering myself toward the academy. In a place like that, it would be hard to hit me again.

I felt my lips twitch upward, a feeling I had experienced often during my wild school days creeping over me once again. 

_ You picked the wrong target, buddy _ .

I wanted to go after them, see how they liked getting hit with a shock of magic, but I knew that with my lack of mana I would only be asking to die. Besides, my style of magic was more blunt than anything-- I didn't have the capability to restrain myself and take a stealthier approach. 

As I ran, I felt a calm settle over the area once again. If I wasn't so fatigued, I would have been able to measure whether their mana signature had left, but for now I needed to be careful. 

I made my way along a line of brick walls and lush bushes, creeping up on one of the many back entrances of the academy. As I jumped to speed through it, I saw a foot step out through the doorway. When they saw me, hunched over and breathing like I had just run a marathon, probably with some leaves and dirt in my hair, they gaped in shock.

"Professor?" The deep voice of one of my colleagues broke through, seeming astounded by my appearance. I recognized him to be one of the new professors, a middle-aged man who I had only interacted with a few times. In each, he treated me with delicacy and reverence, and it had felt nice at the time to know he obviously looked up to me. He didn't seem to know what to do now, what with me hunched over and panting like a wildcat.

"Good afternoon, Professor Michiel," I greeted, as professionally as I could, as he scanned me up and down. I hurried through the doorway he stood in so I could be protected by its walls before wiping myself off and standing up straight. Micheil seemed at a loss.

"Professor," he repeated, stuttering. It didn't seem like he knew what to say, or what even to do with himself. In fact, it positively looked like he wanted to disappear. 

"As you can see, I got a bit lost," I sighed dramatically, flicking a speck of dirt off my arm. I was still in the student school uniform since I wasn't able to change, so I probably looked rather odd. 

"I... see, yes," he agreed, eyebrows furrowing and hands fiddling together rapidly. A blush touched his ears as he tried to look everywhere except at me. I considered the uniform: it did show quite a bit of leg. 

"Would you care to escort me to my office?" I asked cordially. I had a spare set of clothing there. "Oh, and would you mind terribly if I borrowed your robe?"

Professors in the academy were characterized by the long robes they wore over their clothing-- without it, he would look like he was off duty, and I wouldn't look like I was running around in some stolen uniform.

He shrugged it off and handed it to me wordlessly. I flashed him my most beaming professorly smile. 

"You have my gratitude."

...

Although Professor Micheil looked like he'd rather jump off a bridge, he politely took me by the elbow and walked with me back to my office. It seemed he was under the impression he had accidentally sabotaged me while I was on some sort of reconnaissance mission. Though I assured him he had not, he didn't look like he believed me.

Most of the professors knew I was doing some sort of undercover work, but few had the authority to know what. Professor Micheil was new, so he only knew what he had been told. I sighed, deciding it was probably better to let him think what he wanted. I wasn't fond of the idea of ruining his impression of me, anyway. 

I didn't want to garner the reputation of being Duke Belloway's dog; it was an insult to my name.

"H-here we are," Professor Micheil informed me, bringing his hand to his chest formally as we arrived at my office. I bit my lip to refrain from giggling at how tense he was. Though his speech was looser at first, as we talked he had started to mimic my style of talking. The way he touched his hand to his chest and dipped his head slightly was reminiscent of a knight, a greeting I had learned from my father. It was kind of adorable to see him copying what had become my signature greeting. I took off the robe, handing it to him.

"Thank you greatly, professor. You were a great help." He raised his head awkwardly, as if he were trying to restrain his happiness as my praise, and hastily righted himself as I dipped into my office. 

I had to cover my mouth once I was safe behind my door so I didn't let any laughter escape. How long was he planning on standing behind my door? A few moments passed, and finally his presence disappeared. 

I found myself smiling as I moved to the other end of my room, and then stopped abruptly, fingers moving to touch my lips.

Professor Eclaire didn't smile happily, but cordially, fake. 

My mind flashed back through the weeks, all the sincere grins I had exchanged with May, Elizabeth... Grace. 

The rage and sorrow that weighed heavy at my heart every day, the guilt I found in being happy when my family had had their lives stolen from them, all of that had melted away in little more than a month. Before I met them, I never would have laughed at something as ridiculous as a subordinate professor clumsily falling all over himself because he was excited to assist me. Even with Katarina and Thurman, some of my closest colleagues, I would smile only under certain circumstances. 

Before, I would have hesitated to admit they were even my friends. Though I got along with them well, they weren't people I would go out dancing with on a whim while ditching work. 

My lips parted as I realized this. Katarina... who had been nothing but good to me, and Thruman, my comrade-- I had been keeping everyone at arm's length this whole time.

At the orphanage, too, I had never played with the other kids because I felt I wasn't worthy to have fun when I should have been working hard. I had so much pent up rage and stress, and it was all let loose when I enrolled in the academy.

I attacked anyone who provoked me, coldly, and refused to give up my #1 position to anyone. My name back then, feared as it was admired, was not spoken lightly; it became almost taboo to speak the words  _ Morgan Eclaire. _

Instead, everyone called me by a nickname: Wildcard. 

Even after I was recruited as a professor and trained by Professor McGowan my anger didn't disappear, but morph. I learned how to control my emotions and restrain them within myself, how to wield gentleness and professionalism as a weapon.

When I compared this personality of mine to the childishness I exhibited when I was near Grace-- how I let myself pout and cry and laugh openly around her, how I danced with her on the side streets of the shopping district, and how I trembled like a rabbit whenever she got close to me-- I felt a flutter pass through my heart and a deep flush color my face as my knees buckled and I fell to the floor. 

I moved my hands up to cover my face, feeling the heat with my shaking fingertips.

"Morgan Eclaire, what is happening to you?"

**...**

The only time I could relax, it seemed, was when I was acting as Olivia. When I was Professor Eclaire, I had to look over my shoulder at all times just in case a mysterious shadow decided to attack again.

The next few days passed too quickly, now that time was precious. I only saw Grace a couple of times because she seemed busy. I wasn't too worried, though, because whoever had been bullying me had decided to back off as of late. In fact, there had been no movements on their end at all.

Not like that small amount of abuse was anything compared to the guillotine that was currently hanging over my head. 

I bit my lip. I wanted to see Grace as much as I could before Olivia disappeared. Then, a smile broke out on my face.

_ That's right-- I have the advantage as a professor because I know Grace's entire schedule _ .

Which is how I winded up coincidentally walking outside of Grace's classroom right as I knew it was getting out, and how I ended up accidentally bumping into her as she left. She stiffened as I ran into her, a lot harder than I had intended, scrunching my nose as it strung. When she looked down and saw me, her eyebrows pulled up, humor flashing through her eyes.

"This isn't funny," I whined, wiping my finger under my nose to make sure there wasn't any blood.  _ None _ . Good.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, and I gaped at her.

"Walking to class?" I said innocently. She narrowed her eyes.

"You don't walk in this direction to go to your next class," she observed. My heart fluttered-- she had noticed me enough to know where I came from before our class together. 

"Maybe I benevolently wanted to walk you to your next class," I gave in, knowing I had been caught. Her eyes softened, a breathtaking smile blooming across her face. I blinked, overwhelmed at how stunning she was.

"So? Are we going to walk, then?"

"Give me a minute," I replied weakly, still trying to gain control over my body. It was a hard battle, trying to convince my brain to start moving instead of spending the rest of its pitiful life staring at Grace Belloway's ethereal beauty.

By the time my brain caught up with itself, we were already moving, Grace pushing me along with a hand on the small of my back. We were headed in a direction that was definitely not the right one.

"Where are we going?" I asked, craning my next backward to see a few of Grace's friends-- Hamilton included, smiling at us as we walked away. She waved. "Grace?" I was getting a little panicked.

"We're not going to class today," she asserted.

"We're not?"

She didn't answer, instead favoring a cool expression as she led me down a hallway. After a couple of minutes, I finally recognized where we were going. 

I was going to ask about it, but my breath caught once I saw what had been prepared. The garden, which was normally filled to the noble students' tastes with uniformly trimmed roses, had been replanted with countless wildflowers. They matched exactly with the wildflowers on the flower crown I had settled on her head the day we danced together.

I started forward and Grace stopped as if she were expecting me to let her stand on the sidelines like I had when that young boy invited me to dance. But this time, I refused to leave her out of my joy for even a second. I snatched her wrist as I shot forward, basking in her shocked expression as I pulled both of us until we were flush with the line of the flowers. 

I let my eyes close, the scent of flowers tickling my nose. Acutely, I noticed Grace’s clean and sweet smell next to me. 

"When did you manage to do this?" I was awed. "It's beautiful." I felt her leave my side for a second and my eyes flashed open, only to be covered by a soft hand.

"Keep them closed for a second," Grace requested. I tilted my head in confusion, but did as she asked. Her hand brushed the side of my face, pulling my hair back behind my ear. She let her hand drop, and I reached to where she touched self-consciously. When I felt the silky petals of a wildflower, my eyes flickered open. Grace stared down at me, a small smile on her face.

"It looks good," she noted. I fiddled with my hands and bit my lip, elation dancing through my stomach and settling in my heart. Unable to think of what to say, I studied her eyes, tensing when I found something I recognized.

Loneliness.

Pain shot through me as I recalled her words from weeks ago:  _ Involving yourself with me is just going to make things harder for you _ . I couldn't say anything to her back then, but I could now; now that I had nothing to lose, now that I knew I would have to give her up anyway. 

Her eyes furrowed at the change in my expression.

"Olivia?" I cut her off, bringing both of my hands to settle on the sides of her face delicately. 

"I don't regret meeting you," I asserted, determined. She stared at me, studying my resolve, before a serious tone colored her gaze. She pulled my hands off, intertwining them with her fingers and letting them swing between us. Before, I prayed every day that the duke would rescind his order and I wouldn't have to associate with royal blood. Now, I longed to see her blue-blue eyes and the bittersweet feeling her silver hair filled me with. It was almost as if my mind had begun to dissociate her hair with her lineage, as if there were a disconnect between silver hair testament of royalty and silver hair belonging to Grace.

"Because of me--" she started, but I didn't let her continue.

"Those girls would have bullied me regardless of whether I knew you, and-- hey, don't object, I'm still talking." I shoved my face closer to hers to let her see the sincerity in my eyes and took a deep breath. "Never once have I regretted meeting you, Grace Belloway. Sometimes, sometimes it's hard, yeah, but that's not your fault-- I would rather have petty teenage girls attacking me every day than go back to the time before I first met you. You are kind, fair to everyone, and... and I can't think straight when I'm with you. Shit. This is a lot less... cool sounding than I wanted it to be. Let me just, let me just, uh, start over. Just forget everything I just said." Grace's expression never changed, even as I rambled; it stayed serious. Deep down, I was glad, because I was baring my heart and embarrassed beyond belief. If she had laughed, I didn't know if I would have been able to handle it. 

"You don't need to start over," she whispered, leaning forward so our foreheads pressed together. "I understand."

"You... understand?" I blinked, then righted myself. She understood that I didn't regret meeting her, and that she shouldn't feel guilty. Good. That was good. 

"Yes. I understand your feelings, now," she said instead, and I froze. I hadn't spoken my feelings, had I? Desperately, I rewound my babbling monologue, but no matter how much I searched it I couldn't find anything. Not that my brain was working well, anyway-- her face so close to mine was bad for my heart. 

"I..." I started, trailing off when her eyes flickered to my lips. 

"Olivia," Grace said, softly, letting go of my hands and tipping my chin up.  _ Olivia.  _ Olivia, not Morgan.

I felt my heart sink at the name that wasn't mine,  _ Olivia _ , and pulled away before our lips could connect. I wanted to laugh bitterly, or perhaps cry. How low had I sunk to be jealous of myself?

But no, Olivia wasn't Morgan Eclaire. She was softer and cuter, Grace's  _ little rabbit _ . She was known for being gentle and weak, kind and open-hearted. 

Morgan Eclare was... impulsive, angry, though she was outwardly regal. She had a professional wall that separated her from even her closest friends, who she wondered if she could even claim were friends at all. 

Still, I forced myself to hide my pain. I didn't want to give Grace any reason to doubt my sincerity that I didn't regret meeting her.

"A petal," I explained, reaching to pull it out of her hair. She didn't speak, her eyes flickering over my face as I smiled tenderly. A few moments passed.

"I'm glad you liked the flowers," she said, and I widened my smile in response, hoping it didn't look strained.

"They're beautiful," I praised, trying to admire them once more. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't, the pain in my chest weighing me down. "You should come here with me again tomorrow." When she nodded at my invitation I let my head tip back, eyelids falling shut. Yes, tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow I would be able to smile genuinely again.

That's what she deserved.


	9. bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which assassinations don't deter decision-making.

The next day was Grace's day off, so we were able to walk about the garden for a while. This time, I had prepared myself, successfully locking away my droning thoughts and just enjoying the moments I had with her. 

We continued our daily escape from the world for the rest of the week, and it grew to be the highlight of my day. Slowly we began meeting earlier, our rendezvous ending later. Thirty minutes grew into an hour, an hour into two. Wistfully, I held a flower up to her eyes, considering its color-- too pale to match-- while wishing that my transformation spell lasted longer so I could spend more time with her. Day after day I would make my excuses and leave before my magic inevitably ran out, and day after day Grace accepted them. She had to know, with as outrageous as they were, that my stories didn't match up. Still, she smiled and let me go every time. 

I didn't question her goodwill, instead treasuring our time together. I spent every minute we were together carefully wrapping the memories up and storing them so I didn't forget a single moment. 

I squinted at her as I let the flower drop, pursing my lips; I would have considered my discarding of the beautiful flowers to be wasteful, but because they were magically cultivated the heads I dropped would naturally regrow. Her eyebrows twitched together, a movement I now knew after countless hours of studying her to mean that she was confused by my actions.

"Your eyes," I grumbled, unsatisfied. "No matter how much I try, I can't find a flower that looks like your eyes." She picked up one of the blossoms I had dropped, considering it.

"This looks close," she offered, holding it up to her face. I shook my head.

"No, it lacks... depth," I explained. She smiled, amused.

"Depth?" She teased.

"Ah, don't make fun of me," I pouted, "it's not the same, I swear."

"I see," she placated. I squinted at her.

"You don't 'see' at all," I chided. "This flower has too dark of a center-- your eyes kind of get lighter around the iris, and they have like, golden flecks in them." I pursed my lips, examining the flowers around me. None of them were right.

"Golden flecks," she repeated. I whipped my head up, realizing what I had just said. Heat grew in my cheeks. 

"Uh, y-yeah," I said, biting my lip. Confidence, Morgan. "They're kinda... swirly sometimes."

"Swirly." Shit. I needed to shut up. Her poker face was really good-- she was giving me nothing. I smiled sheepishly. Then, I noticed a lapse in her stone expression. 

"Wait, are you teasing me again?" I asked, flabbergasted, when I saw the humor sparkling in her eyes. She turned her gaze away, taking my hand in hers.

"Whatever gave you that idea, my dear little bunny?" First it was rabbit, and now it was bunny? I glared at her: she was definitely teasing me.

"Don't look away," I scolded, "lie to my  _ face. _ "

Her next movements were quick. She squatted like she was enacting a proposal, one knee lifted up, and kissed my knuckles as if she were a knight bidding a damsel goodbye. Then, she met my eyes with a startling intensity.

"My lady, the light of my days, rose to my thorns, I apologize sincerely for teasing you; you look beautiful when you blush." I squinted, heat rising to my face.

"Better," I allowed, mumbling, "but we're going to need to work on your metaphors. You’re not a thorn-- if anything, I’m the thorn to  _ your  _ ro--" She cut me off by standing abruptly and pressing a finger to my mouth, eyes flashing dangerously. I felt a shiver run down my spine, my heartbeat picking up. How was she so damn  _ attractive? _

"Olivia, am I a liar?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at me. I considered it, wanting to tease her by saying  _ yes.  _

"...No," I admitted, instead. She didn't lie. Omitting the truth, however, was different. "Except!"

"Except?" She lifted her eyebrows. I straightened myself.

"You are not a thorn," I asserted. 

"Then you aren't one either," she rebutted. 

"...Agree to disagree," I concluded. A pause, as if she couldn't believe I existed.

"You, my Olivia, are the absolute worst at arguing," she finally said, the words measured, disbelief coloring each one. My lips twitched, and before I could stop it a giggle escaped. She looked taken aback. 

"I'm-I'm sorry," I stuttered, covering my mouth with my hand, "it's just, pfft-- your face!" I couldn't help it, I clutched the material of her shirt, dipping my head down as my shoulders shook with silent laughter. 

She stood still, her hands frozen in the air like she didn't know what to do.

"Grace Belloway, speechless," I managed after a few seconds of careful restraint. "Imagine how betrayed the student body would feel if they saw this." Finally, she relaxed, her arms falling to wind their way around me. I looked up in her embrace, hands still bunched on her chest, and beamed. Frustratingly, I couldn't read the emotions that swam in her crystal eyes.

"I can assure you that you're the only one who has ever witnessed it," she spoke, carefully. Against my will, my heart fluttered. 

"Good," I grinned, lifting my chin. "I'm not selfless enough to give up delicacies to other people."

"Delicacies, huh?" Although she had only repeated my words, her tone came out completely different, smoky, so much that I was sure we weren't talking about the same thing. Her gaze flickered to my lips, and the flush returned to my face. 

"Y-yeah. I can't allow anyone to sabotage our walks or anything, after all."

"Yeah? So walking together every day is a delicacy?"

"Is it not?" I combated. She hummed in agreement.

"...No, it is." I let my head fall on her shoulder.

"Good."

**...**

"Really," I sighed aloud, "you haven't given up yet?" 

Every day since the attempted assassination, there had been someone tailing me. I had ignored it until now, but they were beginning to creep even closer, which was freaking me out. I released a burst of mana, an intimidation tactic I was sure would scare off a lion, and their mana shook. Still, they didn’t move. Unlike lions, humans had the intellectual and conscious potential to shake off their basic fight-or-flight responses.

I sighed, lifting my hand and centering my mana on it. The crackle of magic that began to amass in the center of my palm was satisfying and familiar; I made it powerful enough to be sure the person following me could feel it. 

"Come out now," I warned. I felt my pursuer's mana shuffle, moving behind me. I pursed my lips. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

I jerked my finger ever so slightly, the magic in my palm jumping when I did so. I heard a yelp from where my pursuer was, and though I couldn't see them I could imagine what was happening in my mind's eye; this particular magic was restraint magic, one that grappled and pressed you down. In my school days, a smile might have snuck its way onto my face at the man's groan. Now, I could only feel frustration.

I had been in such a good mood, too-- I had just finished walking in the academy's garden with Grace. 

Quickly, I moved to my pursuer's side. They were sprawled on the ground, red chains forcing them down painfully. I knew because this particular magic had been used against me once before. I wasn't a fan of restricted movement, it made me feel claustrophobic. All the better for me-- I had to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him if I wanted answers. Slowly, I walked forward, my pace calculated. Better to seem confident and leisurely, it helped intimidate the opponent. 

"Who are you?" I questioned, low. No answer, only desperate scrambling. He was going to end up hurting himself if he struggled like that. 

I twitched my finger again, and the chains tightened. "I won't ask again."

"P-please don't kill me," the man gasped. It was probably hard to breathe with so much pressure pushing them against the ground. "I don't know anything, I promise-- they just hired me." 

"A mercenary," I mused. It made sense, I thought as I examined him. He was too weak to be anything else.

"I see," I accepted his excuse, and he visibly shook in relief, though he didn't stop struggling. "If you keep moving like that, you're going to get hurt," I added. He froze, probably taking my words as a threat rather than advice from someone who had been in his position before. 

"I don't know who it was, I promise," he rambled, "they just hired me, told me to kill a professor. I-I refused, I promise, even I'm not crazy enough to go up against one of you monsters." I raised my eyebrows.

"They blackmailed you," I supplied. He tried to nod, which didn't work very well, considering his cheek was smashed against the ground. I squatted, lifting the hood of his robe. Middle-aged, plain face, freckles. Poor guy, he was trembling-- he had been terrified to attack me in the first place, if the wavering of his mana had been any indication. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose, a long-suffering breath leaving me. I clenched my hand, effectively dispersing my magic, and the chains disappeared. The man, now free, sagged against the ground, panting heavily. I reached into my robe, pulling out a few gold coins and tossing them at him.

"Go, take your family and run. Go!" I shouted when he didn't move, and he startled, gripping the coins and sprinting away.

_ Not even a 'thank you'?  _

Well, he did call me a monster. The mercenaries nearby probably didn't think too highly of the professors at the academy, or even the academy itself. Still, he could have spared a glance back for my trouble.

I sighed, wiping myself off as I got up. Whoever was trying to get me killed had another thing coming for them if they thought someone that pathetic could take me out.

I bit my lip. Who was trying to kill me in the first place? I listed my enemies in my head.

_ The princess, maybe the duke, I'm not really sure about the principal... _ I furrowed my eyebrows. Who else?

... _ Annakin _ , I realized, remembering the chilling expression on his face that day as he saw Grace and I talking.  _ No way,  _ I was in disbelief _ , there's no way he noticed that I favored Grace just from that. _

_ A master manipulator can tell the truth from behind any situation,  _ my father's words echoed in my mind.

"Shit," I cursed. I just had to go and get the son of a duke pissed at me.

No, I was expecting this to happen. It just occurred a lot earlier than I thought. But I hadn't been expecting Annakin to try to  _ kill _ me for it. Was his goal to silence me before I could report my choice to the principal?

If so, I needed to end this masquerade before it painted the floor with my blood.

...

"I'm... sorry," I told Grace the next day as she prepared to walk me down to the garden as usual. "I can't make it today. I have something to do." It wasn't wholly false-- I did have something to do. I had a lot to think about, and I knew I couldn't do that in her presence. The reason I gave such a vague answer was that I couldn't stand to lie to her and I knew she wouldn't pry. She was too polite to do that. Despite that, a part of me wished through her silence that she would be at least a little interested.

"A project?" She guessed, and my head shot up. It wasn't like her to probe like this.

"Ah, no," I said, unsure what to say, "it's more of a future thing." She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. A beat passed, and I bit my lip. Finally, she sighed.

"If you need to meet with a counselor, just tell me that. I know they tend to ask seniors about what they're going to do in their futures right around this time," she said. A counselor? Oh, yes, dear lord, let's go with that.

"Yeah, ah, I'm sorry, I just didn't know how to tell you," I stammered, smiling sheepishly at her. 

"..."

"I'll... see you, then," I worked out, fisting my hands as I made my escape. I could feel her eyes on me as I left, and squeezed my eyes shut.

I had to make a decision. I'm sure the principal would be willing to meet with me sooner after hearing about the assassination attempts, but... If I did that, my time with Grace would end even sooner. I only had a week left.

It was a gamble I needed to be willing to take: to try to stay alive for another week, or give up right away. I couldn't afford to be hasty with my decision, as much as I wanted to be. 

**...**

My mind was a mess as I lectured, and I ended up ending class early after my third mistake trying to teach a concept. As students filtered out, excited about their newfound free time, I tried not to sag against my chair too much. I had a reputation to keep up.

Grace hadn't shown up, which hadn't helped the state of my brain at all. Lately, she seemed more and more disinterested in me as Professor Eclaire. I tried to hide the pain in my eyes whenever she turned her impassive eyes on me, starkly different to their tenderness when they looked at Olivia, but I wasn't sure how well I would do if my time with her as Olivia disappeared completely. 

"Professor?" I whipped my head up. Lost in thought, I hadn't even noticed Anna approach me. I furrowed my eyebrows, wary; she was undoubtedly on her brother's side. I scanned the room, but nothing was particularly out of order. She wasn't trying to kill me yet, at least.

"What is it, Miss B-- Anna?" I corrected myself, remembering how much she hated to be called Miss Belloway. Oddly enough, she looked rather shy today as she approached me.

"I was wondering... how I'm doing in your class," she admitted, to my surprise.

"I don't know why you wouldn't be doing well, you ace all of the exams," I informed her. She looked unsatisfied with my answer. "As a longer answer, yes, you're doing very well. You're quite good when it comes to healing magic, actually-- I'm sure your peers look up to your skills." She brightened at that. She had to know she was doing well because of the grades she had been receiving. 

Was she just asking for praise? It wasn't a totally radical idea for someone like Anna, who had barely restrained genius but was never recognized for it, to seek the approval of an adult. 

"Thank you," she said, smiling in a way that caught me off guard because of its sincerity. As she moved to leave, I opened my mouth again.

"Anna?" I asked. She paused.

"Yes?"

"I've noticed that you're very close with your brother," I said. She turned her head, though her back still faced me. Her smile was unwavering.

"Yes. I love my brother more than anything; he's all I have." 

...

As I was walking down the hallway, my mind spinning from my conversation with Anna, I noticed Professor Thurman's large figure loitering by the wall.

"Professor!" I greeted, speeding up my step a little bit. As cool as these professor's robes were, they were hard to move in. When he turned, I noticed Katarina behind him.

"Hey, Morg," she greeted, wiggling her fingers at me in a wave. Thurman nodded at me in greeting, a small smile on his face.

"It's unusual to see you two together," I noted. Katarina and Thurman had sort of friends in the past, but they knew each other through me and I knew after graduation they had drifted apart. I was under the impression that Katarina didn't really like him all that much.

"Another one of his students was sent to the infirmary. I say, Thurman, what do you do to those kids?"

"Nothing!" He defended, raising his hands defensively. "I do my job correctly, I swear."

"He does," I cut in, joining them at the side of the hall. Katarina glared at him facetiously, scolding him further.

It was fun to see them get along like this, I realized. It was something I hadn't seen since graduation. Besides, despite Katarina's chiding, she knew that he actually cared about his students.

"Hmph," Katarina pouted, sticking out her tongue at him. "Excuses, excuses. Morg, let's go." She took me by the elbow, leading me away firmly. 

"Have a wonderful day," I greeted Thurman, craning my neck to say it as Katarina practically dragged me. He chuckled loudly, returning my greeting with a hearty wave. When he was out of sight, I giggled. Katarina glanced at me as I did so, crossing her arms.

"You've changed a lot, Morg," she let me know. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but then I saw her expression. A fond smile sprouted across her face. "It's nice to see."

"It... is nice," I agreed, letting out a deep breath.

"It's relaxing not having a stick up your ass all the time, isn't it?" I gasped at her.

"Rina! You can't say things like that, you're an esteemed member of the academy's faculty." She clicked her tongue at me.

"Damn, and here I thought you had finally gotten rid of that thing for good."

"Rina!"

"Want me to do an examination? I'm sure I could pull it out if I tried hard enough."

"You-- you are incorrigible," I managed, overcome with bouts of laughter. She beamed at me, her own shoulders trembling in humor. Then, her eyes shaded to a more serious tone.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she said, "you looked like you had a permanent cloud hanging over your head when you walked by.” I paused.

"...I've had a lot to think about," I let her know lamely. She squinted at me, her lips thinning.

"When are you going to be done with this whole 'Olivia' thing?" She asked me. "I'm worried; it's really dangerous to get involved in these sorts of politics. It would be best to get out of the duke's hair as soon as possible." At her words, I felt my heart sink.

"It's a little complicated," I mumbled, biting my lip.

"What's so complicated about it?" She sounded upset. "Morgan, this is serious. You could get killed."

"They haven't been doing a good job at it," I asserted, thinking back to the poorly trained mercenary they had sent. She must have understood what I meant because she gaped at me. 

"Morgan, are you fucking kidding me?" I shushed her.

"Keep it down: it's supposed to be a secret." She closed her eyes, breathing out through her nose angrily.

"I'll kill that bastard principal with my own two hands," she spat, "and that good-for-nothing duke, as well."

"Katarina, that's treason," I informed her as she stewed with rage.

"Kiss my ass! I don't care!" I laughed at her childishness. It was nice to know how much she cared about me, especially when I had never realized it before. 

I managed to get her to keep quiet about how much she wanted to kill the duke, but still had to listen to her ramblings about the principal for the next couple of minutes.

"--and I swear, he doesn't even pay us that well! Unbelievable!" She ranted, pacing. She was bound to wear a hole into the floor at this rate.

"Katarina, thank you," I said sincerely, and she stopped, looking up at me in surprise. Then, she glared at me.

"Of course, goddammit, I'm your friend. You should come to me more," she hissed. 

"I will," I promised, leaning in to give her a hug that she begrudgingly accepted, patting my back gently despite her fiery demeanor. 

"You give them hell, Morgan Eclaire."

**...**

Three days. There were three days until my meeting with the principal. I had decided not to tell him about the assassinations, to wait to give him my decision until the full amount of time allowed. It was a gamble, but a gamble I was willing to take to stay with Grace as long as I could.

There were three days until Olivia no longer existed; the sand in the hourglass was slipping through my hands at a rapid pace. 

_ “Want to hang out after this?”  _ I had asked Elizabeth and Grace in class earlier today, as we sweated through whatever rigorous workout Thurman had planned that day. Their eyes lighted up in delight, and Elizabeth fist-pumped.

_ “Hell yeah, we finally got her, May-May,” _ she had grinned, breaking her posture to beam at me in delight. 

Though I had never allowed myself to spend time with them outside of class because of the ticking time-bomb my transformation magic was, I figured it would be okay for a couple of hours. I just wouldn’t go to any other classes, after this. I felt a little guilty, as a professor, for condoning them to ditch their classes, but I had no choice.

_ Just this once, let me be with them, before Olivia disappears forever.  _

It was selfish, but seeing May’s bright smile as she spun around the plaza of the shopping district was worth it. 

The shopping district near the school was divided into two sides: the poorer side, which Grace, Hamilton, Amanda and I walked through to reach their favorite cafe, and the more affluent side. Because many of the students at the academy were nobles, it was rare to find them on the common side, which was probably why Grace and her friends liked that cafe so much: they didn’t have to be under the public eye. 

This time, however, I was on the affluent side of the district because May wanted to look at new dresses.

We entered a particularly expensive shop and May gasped when she noticed a dress she liked.

“My family would have a heart attack if they saw the price of these clothes,” Elizabeth mused, considering the silky material in May’s hands. 

“I know,” May pouted, “my family can’t afford this kind of thing, either. Still, it’s fun to look.”

“Did you go shopping a lot in your hometowns?” I asked them. Elizabeth shook her head.

“May did,” she stuck her thumb out at her, and May grinned innocently, “but I hadn’t ever even seen a place like this until I entered the academy.” I was surprised.

“Are you not a noble, Elizabeth?” I had figured they both were, what with their demeanor. Besides, a commoner enrolling at the academy was rare. I had an inkling that May belonged to a lower noble house, but Elizabeth didn’t talk about herself much.

“My village gathered all of their funds to send me here,” she said wistfully, but her eyes let me know she loved her village greatly, “I’m trying to do them right by becoming a knight.”

“That’s a noble dream,” I replied, smiling. She sighed, fiddling with her hands.

“I know how hard it is for commoners to rise to the top. It’s why I wanted to go here, to Sain Clare; I heard that there was a professor here who used to be a commoner.” I froze.

“Professor Eclaire,” May joined in, dreamily. “She’s so cool-- everyone knows that she’s the most powerful mage at the academy. Some people say she isn’t fit to be there because she’s a commoner, but there’s no way that’s true.” My smile turned strained at the mention of my name, though it was cute to see them admiring me like that.

“What about you, May? What do you want to be?”

May’s demeanor stiffened, her eyes dropping. I lifted my eyebrows in shock-- she was acting completely different. 

“I’m not… very good at anything at all,” she admitted, quietly. “When I was little I wanted to be a mage, but when I enrolled here I found out I didn’t have any magic at all. I’m not very smart, so I decided to enroll in the fighter’s sector, but, I’m not as good as you or Elizabeth.” It was true, she did struggle with swordsmanship, but anyone could tell how much effort she put into it. 

My mind flashed back the first time I met her, when she enthusiastically declared that she would be the first to spar against me.

“Olivia, how do you do it?” Elizabeth questioned, placing a comforting hand on May’s shoulder. 

“Do what?” It was odd to see this side of my usually enthusiastic friends.

“You’re always so… optimistic, e-even though everyone says such horrible things about you. For me--” May’s voice trailed off, “for me it’s really hard to hear those words. Weak, useless. Stuff like that.” I opened my mouth to reply, but found I had nothing to say.

In fact, I had ended up enjoying everyone’s underestimation of me, perceiving me as weak, because it meant that the spotlight wasn’t constantly on me. Now I realized how selfish and privileged that view was.

Right in front of me were two girls struggling, trying their best to excel past those like me with natural talent, facing their own stresses and the pain of failure. I, who knew I was powerful and didn’t have to worry about that kind of feeling, could never understand what they went through every day.

“It’s not about what you can or can’t do, whether you have talent or not, and what other people think of you. It’s about your goals and how hard you reach to achieve them,” I said, finally. May’s smile was wobbly, and she giggled.

“You sounded like a professor just now, Olivia,” she pointed out. I bit my lip, realizing that I had slipped.

“It’s true,” I defended, self-conscious. Elizabeth chuckled.

“We know, thank you,” she said. A pause, then: “May and I are really glad that we met you, Olivia.” I blinked, happiness blooming in my chest at their words. If I had never met them, would I still be the same person? There was no doubt that they played a huge role in my world, even after only a couple of months, and that I cherished them both deeply.

“I’m really glad I met you guys, too,” I smiled. Yes, I needed to treasure moments like these, with people I cared about.

There was no time to think about the ticking of the clock and the little time I had left.

**...**

I would meet with the principal and give my choice tomorrow: that was what had been decided. I had spent time with May, Elizabeth and Grace every day, knowing what would happen after my ultimatum was given.

On my last day, when perhaps I should have been running around saying my goodbyes, telling everyone about how I was transferring or whatever bullshit excuse I could think of, I instead decided to spend all of the few hours I had with Grace.

She hadn’t questioned me when I had pleaded with her that morning to spend time with me instead of going to her classes. Normally, on Wednesdays, our walks were limited to a couple of hours. Instead of rebutting me like she might have done, generally a perfect student, she studied my expression and nodded silently at my request.

Despite all of that, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to her, and for the first couple of hours we lay side by side in the grass silently. At some point, we had shifted, and my head lay in her lap as she leaned back and gazed at the sky. 

I wanted to burn the experience into my memory-- how she looked at me, her gentleness. It was why I didn’t speak; I was worried our last moments together wouldn’t be perfect. 

And still I couldn’t relax completely, even lying in such close proximity to her. All I could think about was how temporal this was, how everything would change.

Distractedly, I brought my hand up, studying how the sunlight streamed through my fingers. I let it drop to my chest, moving my attention back to Grace. She was staring forward, her eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“...What are you thinking about?” I asked, curious. To some degree I could guess her emotions with accuracy, but her mind was still a mystery to me. She glanced down, smiling softly at me.

“Just some concepts from class. Because I’m not going today I was trying to think through them.” Such a… studious answer. Also highly impressive-- she was teaching these concepts to herself?

“Need any help?” I offered. “I’m, uh, not super great with swordsmanship, but…” She shook her head.

“No, it’s not that. I’m in Professor Eclaire’s intermediate healing class, and we’ve been going over some complex things.” My eyebrows knit together. 

“Professor Eclaire?” She looked down at me, surprised.

“Do you not know of her? She’s pretty famous around here.” I bit my lip, wondering if it would be okay to ask her about her impression of me. It might be weird to ask someone what they thought of me when they didn’t know I was standing right in front of them.

“Do you like her?” I gave in. I was just so curious.

“I don’t know. She’s an exceptional professor,” Grace answered apathetically, and my heart dropped at her impassive answer. I didn’t know what I was expecting; Grace’s every move-- except with Olivia, it seemed-- was a political maneuver. It made sense that she would have such a professional perception of me.

“I see,” I mumbled. Another silence decorated the space between us, though this time Grace tipped her face down to stare at mine. I could see emotions flit across her eyes as she watched me, eventually settling on minor frustration. 

“Why do you hide your talent?” She finally asked, and I squinted in reply. 

“What?” 

“The day Martin challenged you, he did that on purpose,” she started. I brought my hand up to brush against her cheek, and she caught it, holding my fingers to her skin.

“I know, he wanted to test me because I was a transfer student,” I remembered. She shook her head.

“No. That wasn’t why,” she explained, “it was because you have a… way of carrying yourself. you have the eyes of someone who knows they can protect themselves. It’s the same look all the professors have, and knights, too; you carry yourself like you’re someone powerful.” I tensed at her observation, my eyes flickering away from her. 

“It’s not… that. I was just raised that way,” I lied weakly, keeping my eyes on the beautiful wildflowers around us, many the color of her eyes. She had planted more in that shade recently because she knew I liked them.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, low, “I understand what it’s like to have to hide yourself from the people around you.” She was referring to her perfect and cold demeanor, how every move she made was calculated, all of the friends she kept by her side strategic. I felt my expression shift as pain curled in my chest.

“You must have been so lonely,” I whispered, though barely any sound came out of my tight throat. 

A smile twitched at her lips as she released my hand, reaching down to trace the side of my face with her fingertips. 

“Do you know what kind of face you’re making right now?” She asked me, leaning down. I glanced up at her through my eyelashes, unable to keep my hands from trembling in despair.

“It’s because you… deserve so much more,” I whispered. She closed her eyes, eyebrows knitting together, and pulled away from me as if she was trying to control herself. I lifted my head from her lap, pressing both of my palms to the ground and pushing myself to sit up. 

“Why did you approach me that day?” I asked, referring to the intimate moment we shared in the classroom. My lips tingled at the memory.

“The match,” Grace explained, though her voice sounded a bit forced. “I was suspicious about it, because you lost. The way you held yourself-- I... was incredibly surprised when you lost to Martin. I wanted to see if I could bring you over to my side.” A political move. Somehow, I knew that, but it still hurt to hear.

“Grace,” I said, quietly, moving so our faces were close together. I wanted to see her eyes when I asked my next question, to judge any hesitation or lie in them when she answered. She smiled sadly. 

“Was the kiss a political move, too?” I asked. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“What?” She sounded taken aback.

“Was it?”

“No-- how could it be?” This time, she sounded upset, her voice shaking in anger. Though, it didn’t seem like that anger was directed at me. “It was an accident, a miscalculation. I just expected to go in, talk to you a bit, but then I saw you, and the sunlight on your skin was so beautiful-- and for some reason…” I stayed silent as she rambled, as if she was warring with herself. 

“Do  _ you _ regret it?” I urged, placing my hand atop one of hers and interlacing our fingers. She thinned her lips, her squeezing my hand. 

“I could never. I think you know that,” she whispered, and I felt a smile crack open on my face.

“I just wanted to make sure,” I murmured back, gaze flickering down to her lips again. She studied me again, frustration coloring her expression again, though this time it was different.

“I don’t… want to make you suffer,” she said, her eyes intense. My own flickered to her silver hair; I knew what she meant. She didn’t want to make me have to choose between her and my family. What she didn’t know was that it didn’t matter, not right now, because Olivia would disappear anyway.

Yes, it was okay to indulge just this once.

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. 

That was all she needed. Her eyes darkened as she lowered her face to mine, her lips finally--  _ finally--  _ reaching mine. A burst of pleasure streamed through my body and I closed my eyes, pressing myself closer to her.

Then she pulled back, concern in her eyes.

“Are you su--” I cut her off by slamming my lips back into hers, pushing her off balance. We consumed each other, burning fire growing wild as I fell on top of her. She gripped the back of my head with her hand, the other on the small of my back, moulding our bodies together. When we broke apart for air, she flipped us around in a single jarring moment. A gasp escaped me as my back hit the ground and she loomed over me.

“Olivia,” she breathed, and then we were kissing again, deep and passionate. I clung to her, tears welling in my eyes as I poured my everything into our kiss, all of the despair, all of the admiration, every moment we had shared.

She finally pulled back when a sob wracked through me, my body shuddering in despair as I realized everything we were would be over after my four hours finally ran out. She let me cry, embracing me tightly as I weeped, hot tears rolling down my cheeks and soaking into her soft shirt. 

_ One hour left _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my stories aren't beta read so feel free to point out any mistakes !!


	10. loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the truth hurts.

When I finally calmed down, I noticed that I was pressed against Grace. I pulled back enough to look at her, a pang going through me when I saw the pain and worry and adoration laced in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” I said.  _ I’m sorry I can’t tell you why I’m crying. I’m sorry I can’t give you a proper goodbye.  _ She wiped a tear away with her finger, placing a kiss on one of my swollen eyelids. 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay” she replied, softly, and I wanted nothing more than to believe with all of my heart that it really was. 

But it wasn’t okay, and I needed to accept that. I gazed up at her, her blue-blue eyes somehow clearer than usual, and wondered if I would be able to withstand the pain when their tenderness turned to ice cold apathy. 

“I want to know why you’re crying, what’s made you so desperate,” Grace closed her eyes, resentment coloring her voice. “I want to know so I can help you, but… I understand. I won’t push you to tell me something if you don’t want me to know.” That’s how she was, just and fair and understanding to a fault. 

_ No _ , I wanted to reply.  _ It’s not that I don’t want you to know. It’s because, if I told you, these last moments with you would only end faster _ .

“It’s not that,” I hesitated, “it’s…” I couldn’t find the words.

“Is it why you hide your power?” She questioned, and I bit my lip. Her eyes flickered down at the movement.

“It’s hard to say,” I told her. Something crossed Grace’s face at my words, and I smiled softly at her. “Sometimes I wish… that I could stay with you, like this, forever. That I could, could-- I don’t know.

“It was nothing I had ever experienced, being with you, being with May and Elizabeth and just...“ I hesitated. “You know, it was kind of nice, being underestimated like that, despite all of the dumb petty harrassment and rumors. Because, being treated at  _ normal _ is so much better than looking someone straight in the face and seeing nothing but fear, seeing them tremble when you did nothing more than simply exist and notice them; the crippling expectations, to always be perfect, they’re so much. I don’t know how you do it, how you stay sane and perfect all of the time with that kind of pressure. More than that, I guess, I want to be there for you when it all gets to become too much.” I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see her reaction.

“...” She stayed silent, allowing me to continue.

“But I know it’s okay, because you have friends like Amanda and Hamilton,” I breathed. “People who care about you, people who would go to the ends of the Earth for you.” 

“They’re the only ones I can trust,” Grace admitted. I probably would have lost it again, if it wasn’t for her caressing soothing circles on my back.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “I’m happy to leave you in their hands.” She tightened her grip on me.

“Does… does all that mean what I think it does?” She sought, searching my face. She seemed to get her answer in my expression. She pulled me closer so I couldn’t see her face and I wondered through the pain in her voice what expression she was wearing.

“You should depend on them more,” I told her, thinking of Thurman and Katarina, “they care about you more than you know. It’s lonely to live your life without letting people in.” I hoped that Grace didn’t make the same mistake as me, to push everyone away. It was only after I met her, after I met May and Elizabeth, that I realized what a wall I had built up. How I had treated people who considered themselves my friends. 

“You don’t have to leave,” she pleaded. I smiled fondly into her shoulder.

“I wish that was true,” I murmured, too low for her to hear. 

…

That was it. It was over. 

I stared at myself in the faculty bathroom mirror, the strawberry blond hair and steel-gray eyes, puffy and red from crying all night, of Professor Morgan Eclaire staring back.

_ Get yourself together, _ I told myself. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling pathetic as I pushed myself toward the principal’s office. I straightened my shoulders, knocking once.

“Enter,” his deep voice boomed, and I pushed the door open, pressing my hand to my chest and dipping slightly.

“Good morning, Principal,” I greeted.

“As dignified as ever, I see. Please, take a seat.” I moved to where he was gesturing, sitting on one of the plush chairs. He laced his fingers together, leaning forward on his desk.

“I’m here to report my choice to the duke,” I let him know. He nodded.

“Great. I will relay the information myself. Who have you chosen?” I righted myself.

Anna, the hidden genius, with a severe loyalty to her brother. 

Annakin, the charming manipulator, disliked by many yet holding the support of a surprising number of noble houses.

Finally, Grace, the perfect student, epitome of justice and beauty.

When I gave my decision to the principal, he smiled widely, amusement dancing in his eyes.I gripped the edges of my seat in my hands, eyes flickering to the floor. 

“As expected of the brilliant Professor Eclaire,” he praised, “what an interesting choice. I’ll be sure to notify Duke Belloway as soon as possible.”

_ I’m sorry, father. _

**...**

More than anything, I felt numb as I passed countless rooms throughout the academy’s expansive hallways, heading toward my classroom to prepare for my next lecture.

The classroom Grace and I had first kissed in. Rays of sunlight glinted across the surface of the desk I had sat in that day; the sunlight that had sparkles so beautifully and bittersweet against her silver hair. The day I had first realized the disparity that existed between us, royalty and Eclaire. I wondered, briefly: if I could go back to that time, would I push her away?

The stretch of hallway Grace had found me limp against the first time I had fallen victim to the blond girl’s jealousy. She hadn’t bothered me since the last time I saw her; I regretted not getting her name, making sure she would be okay. It was the first time anyone had ever carried me in their arms since the execution of my mother, the first time concern ever shone in Grace’s eyes. From that time, I would only wind up placing even more stress upon her. 

The garden we spent the last of our weeks in, enjoying each other’s company, admiring the blue-blue of Grace’s eyes and her soft smile as she looked down on me. I paused for more than a moment as I passed it by, grief gripping me; since my goodbye to Grace, it seemed that more flowers had been added to the expanse.

Deep red roses, similar to the color of Olivia’s eyes, filled the bushes surrounding the wildflowers. Blue and brown melded the same way our gazes did when they met.

Olivia and Grace, that is. I closed my eyes and turned away from the sight, continuing my steady pace to the classroom. These eyes of mine, like pale lead, suddenly felt ugly.

I paused outside the door to my lecture room, hardly a minute early, knowing many of my students would already be inside. Grace, she would be seated in the chair closest to the top like she always was, her impassive stare trained on nothing but her notes and my lecture as I taught. 

I entered with a deep breath, focusing only on the task in front of me. I wouldn’t look at Grace.

…

The clock ticked starkly against the echo of the room as I taught, and as soon as the period started it was over. Grace waited until everyone exited, as usual, to leave. I bit my lip as I realized she was acting the same as usual, the mask of a perfect student unrecognizable to me. Nowhere to be seen was the softness she addressed me with.

Our eyes met as she moved to the door.

I hadn’t realized that, this entire time, a small hope had been living in the corner of my mind until it was crushed unforgivingly. Grace’s gaze was like an icy lake as she nodded at me, apathetic, professional. No hint of recognition flashed through her eyes.

My hands trembled and I clenched them into fists, forcing myself to smile cordially at her as she left the classroom.

“Have a wonderful day, Miss Belloway,” I wished her, and she nodded cooly in response. 

Perhaps worse than that was the pain she carried in her shoulders, something I was only able to recognize after spending countless hours with her. It didn’t feel good to know that I had hurt her, leaving the way I had.

In fact, it pierced into me relentlessly, a large cut of guilt stretching into my heart. 

…

As the days passed, Grace only looked worse. I doubted anyone else could notice, but I had spent reckless hours studying every part of Grace. I noticed as the bags under her eyes started to darken, her responses growing as frigid and impassive as a snowstorm whenever I acknowledged her in class. 

And as the days passed, the wound my guilt cut into me only festered, and I found myself staring at the sparkling red magic in my hand on more than one occasion.

_ Just once more. _ Once more I would become Olivia, so I could apologize, tell her to forget me, tell her to get more sleep. Tell her to take care of herself.

_ No, I can’t do that _ . It was over, and I needed to work forward.

But when I passed by the garden Grace and I had spent so much time in and found Grace bent over the flowers, gazing at the delicate petals of the blue wildflowers I had loved with longing and melancholy, adoration, I knew I couldn’t.

_ Just once more _ . 

I felt the magic course through my veins, collecting around me and shifting me to become Olivia Denton. I folded my robe, placing it in an empty classroom, before stepping into the garden.

Sunlight touched my face like a soft caress and Grace turned to see who had entered, the coolness in her eyes breaking to become shock as she saw me.

“Is this a daydream?” She murmured, and I stayed still, on the cusp of the academy and the garden that was no longer mine. She stood, walking toward me in slow, measured steps, and the emotion in her face broke my heart.

I smiled sheepishly. 

“Hello, Grace,” I said. Hesitantly, she took my hands in hers, smiling back and lifting them to her lips, kissing the knuckles delicately, one after the other. The light filtering from behind her illuminated her like she was the Goddess herself-- in it, she was utterly breathtaking. 

“How touching,” a deep voice chided, breaking me away from the moment. Before I could react, a burst of magic hit me, flinging me to the side. 

I gasped as the wood of the wall splintered around my head when it hit it, warm blood running down my forehead.

“It’s a shame to interrupt, but I hope you forgive me,” the man mused, “There’s no way I could possibly get through your defenses if I hadn’t caught you off guard..”

“Olivia!” Grace shouted, sprinting to reach my side. She laid a hand on my head, feeling for damage. I lifted a shaky hand, resting it on hers. 

“Grace, no,” I panted, “run, please.”

“How disgustingly pure,” the man grumbled, stepping forward. Grace whipped her head to glare at him.

“How dare you? Olivia is one of your students,  _ Professor Thurman _ .”

**...**

“Grace, listen,” I pleaded as she stood, hand on her sword. “Grace, you have to run, you have to get out of here-- Grace, I’ll be fine, so... please...” She may have been a powerful swordswoman, but he was a professor. An experienced swordsman and mage, he was years ahead of her. If she got hurt, I would never be able to forgive myself.

“How naive,” Thurman chuckled, the sound sending shivers down my spine and I struggled to keep consciousness. “You didn’t tell her, professor?”

Grace unsheathed her sword calmly, pointing it at him.

“Don’t move another step,” she warned. 

“Thurman, please don’t hurt her, please. She’s just a student,” I begged, struggling to sit up. I couldn’t use much magic while keeping my transformation magic going, which meant I needed to get Grace out of here as soon as possible. “Grace!” She ignored me, dropping her stance as she prepared to strike.

I saw several things happen at once: first, I noticed Grace bring her sword up, powerful and accurate, footwork lacing through the air like a dance and slicing through the side of Thurman’s face.

Next, I saw the burst of magic Thurman was collecting in his palm, and how he brought it forward, aiming for the exposed part of her side as she brought her sword down. If it made contact with her, she would be severely injured. 

I didn’t think; dispersing my transformation magic, I gathered a large burst of bloodred mana in my hands, pushing it toward Thurman’s magical attack.

Then, the moment was over. Blood spurted out of Thurman’s face from Grace’s sword as my magic met his, an explosion resulting between them. Grace was blown to the side, and I staggered heavily against the magical blast as it resounded through the hallways. 

“Grace!” I shouted, placing a stabilizing magic on myself to reduce the dizzying effects of my head wound so I could rush to her side. 

Impressively, she hadn’t fallen. Her forearms were raw and red where she held them up to protect her face; they took the brunt of the blow, although she was breathing heavily and painfully. When I approached her, I saw her eyes widen in shock at my appearance. Thurman, covering his injured eye with his hand, laughed loudly. I gritted my teeth, sending another rush of magic his way. He raised his hand, a golden orb glinting in it, and smashed it against the ground right as my magic would have exploded against him.

And then he was gone.

_ Golden teleportation magic: a color proof of royal blood _ . Thurman wasn’t royalty, so who was helping him?

The Duke, perhaps? Or…

“Professor Eclaire?” Grace was awestruck, but she made an attempt to restrain her expression when she saw me. “Did you see where Olivia went?” I sighed. There was no way she didn’t know, with what Thurman had said and by the fact that we were the only people here. 

“I’m sorry, Grace; I never meant to lie to you like this,” I apologized. I examined her closely as I spoke the words, not wanting to miss the emotions that would play out across her face. 

But when I saw realization dawn across her, instead of fury, sadness, frustration, or any of the things I had been bracing myself for, I saw nothing. 

She sealed herself off completely, stepped away, bowed, and moved hastily down the hallway.

…

Thurman had betrayed me. I clutched my pouding head in my hands, curled pathetically on the floor of my living room-- I had collapsed soon after entering-- as my mind spun wildly.

Though I had expended a lot of my mana, I still had enough to attempt at healing myself. It would have been more efficient to go to Katarina, but, after Thurman…

I didn’t know who I could trust.

I stared forward blankly, moments shared with Thurman running through my head.

He had been one of my greatest friends, a trusted comrade. For all five of my years as a professor, and for many before, he had been by my side. I had treasured him along with the academy and all of the students in it.

The concept, his betrayal, kept slipping away; I couldn’t get a grasp on it. It was as if my brain was rejecting it, telling me it was all a dream and the next day things would be back to normal-- I could joke around with him just as I had may times before. 

_ Should I tell the principal? _ There’s no way, after trying to assassinate me, he could continue working there. I would never have to see him again.

Instead of being relieving, it only proliferated the pain in my chest.

Grace, she had found out the truth. And her reaction, how she closed herself off, reduced everything we had once been to ashes, was somehow even more painful than the sting of betrayal in my heart.

I shouldn't have turned into Olivia that last time. If I hadn’t, then I could have at least lived with the affection of her smile as my memory of her, not the icy indifference that flattened her blue-blue eyes when she realized who I really was. 

Tomorrow, I would meet with the principal once more. But that was tomorrow, and for now I couldn’t bring myself to do anything at all.

_ This is pathetic _ , I thought lamely, letting my eyes flutter shut as I lied on the cold floor of my home. I wished that I could at least cry it out, because that usually made me feel better, but the tears wouldn’t form.

Whenever I tried, I felt pain bloom in my chest at the sight of Grace’s cold dismissal. I had been expecting it, to a degree-- the Eclaire’s and those of royal blood held flaming hatred for each other.

I realized now that I had been building up hope, hope that someone as calculating and rational as Grace would be different. That, unlike me, she wouldn’t fall into the clutches of her family’s opinions.

I, the only remaining member of the Eclaire household, had the heavy burden of carrying our oath. But Grace didn’t have that burden.

At least, that’s what I had convinced myself, desperately and naively. How narrow-minded of me to think that any of us could really escape the fates our families outlined. 

Grace and I could never be together. 

Still, no matter how many times I repeated the words in my mind, they lacked conviction, simply because I didn’t want to believe it; not that I had much of a choice anymore.

**...**

“Good morning, Principal,” I greeted, my throat barely croaking the words out. 

“So formal, even at a time like this?”

“Now is not the time for informalities and relaxed conversation,” I said in return. He stretched his thin lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I can assume you’re here about the recent attack on the Academy, then?” His words were detached, almost too detached. My eyes narrowed into a glare as I fought the urge to touch my fingers to my still-pounding head.

“You mean how Professor Thurman attacked me in the hallway yesterday?” I shot back. The principal slammed a fist down on his desk, and I startled at the discrepancy in his behavior. His eyes were calm as he stood, approaching me.

“My, Professor, that isn’t how I remember it at all. In fact, by royal decree the notion was that the traitorous Morgan Eclaire, daughter of an enemy of state, lost control and almost harmed a student. Professor Thurman was only doing his job-- subduing a threat.” I froze at the accusation.

“You…” I ground the words out, a rage flaring in my chest. The principal grasped one of my hands in his faux sympathy.

“Rest assured that I did not want this to happen. In fact, I was very much on your side-- however, the Princess has spoken, and I am unable to go against royalty, especially in defense of an Eclaire.” Right, because the Eclaire name had forever been tainted with treasonous undertones. 

I was angry-- pissed, in fact. Perhaps I should have been grateful to the pain in my chest, to Grace’s rejection, because it numbed the fire and allowed me to think with an apathetic tone.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, the stinging pain merging with the boiling of my veins. Yesterday, I lost Grace. Today, I was losing the Academy; my career, the only thing I had cared about since my father’s death-- my dream. It felt as if I were submerged in an icy fish tank. 

“I’ve been told by the Duke that he wants to offer you a job.”   
  
Those words served as enough fuel to cut through the water, past my stinging grief for Grace. My body felt light, as if my toes were barely touching the ground, and I had to work to calm the raging mana within me.

“No,” I spoke coldly. His smile didn't falter.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice in the matter.”

…

I’d collapsed into Katarina’s arms before I even had the time to recognize how upset I was. If iI had felt cool before, or red-hot, it was nothing compared to the searing greif lacing my body every sob I heaved into Kararina’s shoulder. She placed a gentle hand on my back.

“It’s not fair,” I choked, like a toddler. I screwed my eyes shut, twisting my hands into the fabric of her robes.

“I can’t believe it either,” she said quietly in return. Thurman’s betrayal hummed quietly between us, though no one would say it aloud.

“Today I lost everything,” I said, trying to school my voice to a steely monotone, “I lost the one place I felt was home, I lost the respect of my name,”  _ again, _ “the worst things that could have possibly happened to me happened. My job, the career I bled for, I will never recover.”  _ And I lost Grace _ . I could not say it-- that thought had to remain private.

“Morgan…” Katarina squeezed me, and another sob wracked my body.

“You know what’s worse? What’s impossibly worse? The  _ Duke  _ requested I work at his residence as a mage.” My laugh was dark and wet. “After everything, after running my name to the ground, trampling on my father’s innocence once again, after stripping me of my honor and happiness, I am forced to work for the bloodline that sentenced my family to their deaths in the first place.” Katarina froze.

“They wouldn’t,” she seethed, and I could feel the barely-contained anger in her voice as well as if it were my own. “Can’t to turn it down?” I scoffed.

“It’s hardly a choice. If I say know, I’ll be executed. I had hoped they would give me the option to leave the country, but that  _ duke _ …” I don’t know what had to be running through his head. First the inheritance, now this? My body burned in rage. “I will not forget this humiliation, Katarina, mark my words.”


	11. letters to olivia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the high mage finds a box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're officially at the second plot arc!

Months passed, days and weeks mushing together in a hazy blur. A house mage's duties varied month to month but usually focused on defense and preservation of peace within the territory. I was acutely aware of how high a position I had been granted-- a mage that worked directly under the duke-- because it meant I was in constant contact with said royalty.

Because members of a ducal house were often closely related to the king, Grace was technically in line for the throne (though the odds were close to 0 for her inheritance of it). She was set to inherit the ducal house in a few month's time, and because of it, she was visiting the main house more frequently.

Every time she came, I kept busy. Better to not see her at all than to inflame the flashes of vivid silver that haunted my dreams every night.

"Good morning, High Mage," a servant mumbled as she passed me, skittering off after my acknowledgment.

My first weeks at the ducal palace were rocky, to say the least. Everyone was aware of my lineage, so no one felt the need to address me with respect. Around the second week, which aligned with the time Grace was here for a summit among other noble houses, greetings had suddenly become the norm. I was unsure if it was because the servants and other people of the house were scared to act disrespectful in front of the heir apparent, or if I had finally garnered respect after all.

The second one seemed unlikely.

The duties of a High Mage were downplayed and hidden from the public eye, but still, their reputations soared; this was usually due to the dangerous nature of their work.

I had not been on a single dangerous mission since my employment. The Duke owned a large bit of land, so I knew it wasn't because he had no missions to assign to me, but probably because he didn't trust me. He knew as much as I how much I hated his blood.

It was an insult to keep me working on all the menial magical tasks in the palace, ones that could be handled by lesser house mages. My anger flared whenever I thought about it, so I tried to shove my reality into the back of my mind at all costs.

Instead, I retreated back into the recess of my quarters, pulling a wooden box from under my bed with shaking hands and breathing deeply as I felt the texture along the lid.

I had found it mere days into my service, before I knew where all the rooms in the palace were laid out. Accidentally, I had ended up stumbling into the room I now knew to be Grace's. Searching for reports hidden in the closet I had been asked to receive (like some sort of secretary! Luckily, they stopped making me do those sorts of things) I found a dust-ridden box in the corner of the closet and opened it out of curiosity. There were letters inside.

Taking a deep breath again, I cracked open the lid.

I knew the words written with faded ink like a prayer-- I found myself reading the letters every time I felt insecure or lonely. Which was often.

_ Dear Olivia _ ,

The first started with a name I hadn't been expecting when I first saw it, a tight, regal hand curving the letters together. I traced them with my fingertips as I continued to read.

_ Perhaps it's foolish of me to write a letter I know I'll never send, but the urge has compelled me to sleeplessness. _

_ As I kissed you today I couldn't help but wonder why I felt you so arresting, why I would make such a miscalculation as that. Maybe it's the way you threw your match with Martin, and how no one seemed to notice but me. Maybe it's the way you look at my hair, not with reverence, fear, nor affection, but genuine sorrow. _

_ I can only hopelessly speculate what it is my family did to you to invoke such a reaction. Your hidden strength, the promise of mystery and power, that is why I went out of my way to find you where I knew we would be alone. _

_ Still, I had not planned on kissing you. _

_ I can't help but wonder why I'm truly writing this. Is it an apology? _

_ Dear Olivia, _

_ I cannot explain the fire that scathed my lungs when I witnessed that girl pressing your damaged body against a wall. Before I realized what I had done my veins were racing with boiling silver, my birthright filling my words and posture. _

_ The flash in your eyes told me you recognized it. _

_ Where did you recognize the royal family's divine powers from, Olivia? _

_ Dear Olivia, _

_ I feel just a bit silly about the jealousy I feel when I see Miss Niel making you laugh. _

_ Before I could stop myself, I had rushed out of class to see you at the infirmary, though she stopped me from entering. I had to catch myself before I demanded the door open with my authority as a Duke's daughter. _

_ It disgusted me, how I almost fell to temptation like that; I promised myself to never abuse my powers so. _

_ I hope you are recovering well. I fear you will plague my thoughts until you do. _

_ Dear Olivia, _

_ Pathetic of me to write this, but out of a lack of confidants I find myself placing the words here (it is far too meddlesome to bother Hamilton or Amada with-- they run themselves ragged enough for me as it is): _

_ Anna's behavior has been odd recently. Before, I simply thought her unable to think anything if it was not for the benefit of her brother. Now, though, I find her staring reverently at one of the magic professors. (I wonder if you know her. She's the only other one who looks at my hair like you do. Though, recently, I've found your eyes on other places than my hair. Or maybe that's my mind seeing things that aren't really there.) _

_ I find it hard to focus in class with you injured somewhere I don't know, and with Anna making constant eyes at Professor Eclaire. I almost pity the professor-- it seems Annakin has been making his move as well. No doubt they've figured out her role in our inheritance. _

_ I admit even I had joined her class out of curiosity, her eyes on my hair initially as compelling as I had found yours (though I can say with surety which I find more captivating now). _

_ I am almost certain the professor has been tasked with the generational 'honor' of evaluating potential candidates for the ducal seat. She may even be a direct benefactor to the inheritance. _

_ Still, I shy away from unorthodox methods such as flattery. Annakin's incessant flirting makes me want to puke. _

_ I will do things the right way. _

_ I hope you get better soon, little rabbit. I will do everything I can to protect you.  _

...

_ This is pathetic, _ I thought as I snuck back into my room.  _ Morgan Elcaire, ducking her head to avoid someone _ . What a downgrade. The me of a year ago would have thrown a fit.

As it stood now, however, I was just grateful to get out of the public eye, even if it meant going behind someone’s back. To get out of  _ his _ eye.

High Mage Burner was a despicable man, and a man who thoroughly hated my guts. I had been suspecting for quite a while that it was he who was behind my rather embarrassing situation as a High Mage-- despite my position, I was doomed to complete menial tasks and hadn’t been able to even leave the mansion. All because of my traitorous bloodline. 

When I saw him his reaction was always the same-- a cold stare directed at me down his thin, mangled nose like I was dirt to be stepped upon. He refused to speak my title, High Mage, and instead turned to never addressing me at all.  _ You _ , bring me the agricultural files from spring three years ago.  _ You _ , don’t stand there like an idiot!- get me some coffee.

_ You _ .

How bold. 

I knew I was more powerful than him, but that wasn’t the point. Three years ago I might have ‘accidentally’ burned him to death for one of those snide comments, but now I closed my eyes patiently whenever they came to pass.

_ Why? Why not punish him, show him your authority? Why are you acting so pathetic like this, a supine dog bowing to its master? _

I sat carefully on my bed, brushing my fingertips over the letters beside me.

_ Dear Olivia, _

_ I can’t get your words out of my head.  _

_ “It’s so beautiful,” you told me as you reached to touch my hair.  _

_ “That’s the first time anyon’es told me that with such deep-rooted hatred in their eyes,” I’d said back, but it was the easy way out. _

_ Truthfully, I didn’t know how to describe how you looked at me, omnipresent, like you knew every thought I could have possible held. _

_ It’s hard to forget how the light from the window lit you up, and how you looked at me as if I were unreachable. _

_ I promised I would protect you, remember? _

_ Rather than a rabbit, a butterfly suits you more. I want to pin you down and examine every inch, but if I do, you’ll simply die. _

_ So instead I live with the fear of knowing you might fly away at a moment’s notice, or without one at all. _

_ Dear Olivia, _

_ I tried speaking to the Professor again, curious as I am about Anna’s attachment. There is an unsettling air when I’m around her, and in a way, it reminds me of you. It’s as if she’s constantly holding back, keeping a sweeping power imprisoned. _

_ Her eyes are like yours as well. _

_ I don’t see why Anna would be so obsessed with her. _

_ Maybe it’s her fairness and honesty-- certainly everyone in class hands off her every word. Of course they would, she’s a cool and elegant beauty. _

_ She should be careful, at least. I won’t involve myself with my brother’s whims, but the professor seems to be caught in the crosshairs. _

_ I miss you. _

_ Dear Olivia, _

_ It was cute to see your blush when you saw me looking at you as you sparred in class. _

_ I can’t shake the thought that I’m endangering you by staying involved. I allow myself the pleasure of looking sometimes, but it only makes staying away harder.  _

_ Goddess, I’m glad these letters will never be seen by you. I’m acting like a little girl with an infatuation. _

_ Dear Olivia, _

_ I hate that girl for hurting you again, but more than that I hate myself for allowing it. When I saw you on the ground, bruised, wrist bent the wrong way, I could barely restrain myself-- it was like red-hot fury clouded my gaze. _

_ But if I couldn’t, I would be no different than the rest of my family. The family that hurt you somehow in the past. _

_ I hate myself still for wanting to be near you when my very blood reminds you of something painful, and when my presence incurs others’ wrath upon you. _

_ Pitiful as it was, I needed you to tell me to leave. I made you say it, made you go through the pain again, purely because I was too selfish to restrain myself. _

_ I hope I’ll take this lesson to heart, remember the blooming bruises on your limp body whenever I find myself gravitating toward you again. _

_ God, I’m weak for going back. I wanted to see you one last time while you were asleep. Miss Niel, like a guardian angel, told me you didn’t want to see me. If only I wasn’t the demon in that metaphor. _

_ Perhaps it’s time for me to stop these useless ramblings as well. _

_ I will get stronger. _

_ Warmest prayers, _

_ Grace _

My fingers traced over the words.  _ Warmest prayers _ . The pen sunk deep into the paper at their mark, biting through the delicate material. It was as if she forced herself when she wrote them-- the hand was slightly choppier, stiff, ink thick from pressure. How courageous she was. 

It marked the last of her words, the last of the letters. I wished I could slap my past self, tell her to take the words back, though I know I would do it all over again. Hurt Grace like that all over again, because I wouldn’t be able to stay away from her. 

Ironic Grace was able to stop writing letters so easily. I needed that resolve, to be able to stop my useless pining.

It was because of Grace. Because I didn’t want to cause her trouble, because secretly, deep down, though I loathed my position with all my heart and soul, I didn’t want to be fired-- because if I was, I would be exiled, and then I would never be able to see her again.

_ Pathetic. _

  
  


**...**

  
  


I nibbled my lower lip between my teeth as I walked, slowly, toward my doom. High Mage Burner had asked me to check in with him, and like the obedient dog the duke had appointed me to be I had no choice but to obey his orders.

As I crept around the corner, however, I heard voices. My breath hitched as I felt  _ her _ mana invade my every sense, her clear and strong voice cut straight through my body.

“High Mage Burner,” I heard her voice ground out, low but powerful, “do you mean to disobey my orders?”

“Of course not, my lady,” his voice, rough and full-bodied like a vat of oil, seeped through the door. 

_ You shouldn’t eavesdrop,  _ I scolded myself. 

“Did I not appoint High Mage Eclaire her position?” Grace spoke. I startled. It was  _ she _ who gave me my position? I thought…

I thought it was the duke who had sentenced me to this hell.

_ There’s not a chance in hell I’m not listening to all of this.  _

“You did, my lady,”— his taut reply. I felt Grace’s mana ripple, her voice frigid as she spat her next words out. 

“Then why, might I ask, is the High Mage doing tasks I would not order a maid to fulfill?”

Silence. Then, a thunderous laugh filled the room, permeating loudly into the grand hallway I occupied. He had given himself the best of the best office spaces, as befitting a High Mage of the duke— a royal position few could question. My room, which was smaller than many of the maids’ rooms, was nothing in comparison. I didn't even _ have _ an office space.

“That  _ thing _ ,” he began, his voice cruel, “does not deserve the title you benevolently bestowed upon it. Morgan Eclaire is of traitorous blood and it is an insult to the kingdom to acknowledge an Eclaire as anything but a lowly criminal.” How ironic that the first time I would ever hear him properly say my name it would be with curse to my family. 

I felt my stomach sink, rage bubbling through my veins; apathy replaced it as I reminded myself that I could not act.

_ For her sake _ . Right. I could not act out of line, lest I made things hard for Grace.

_ A tamed dog. _

“Shut up _ , _ ” I whispered in frustration, so low I couldn’t even hear myself. 

_ “High Mage Eclaire, _ ” Grace corrected him. “I do not expect you to like every order I give, but they are still  _ orders _ and I expect you to obey them. Understood?”

“…Yes, my lady,” he begrudgingly replied, though it sounded like the words had been forced through his teeth. 

“High Mage Eclaire is an incredible mage and you will treat her with respect. Is it not the rule of mages to obey those more powerful than you? Or are you confident you could beat the  _ Wildcard _ in a match?” 

“…”

_ Wildcard _ . So Grace knew of my past. For some reason, the thought made my stomach drop. My wild youth, filled with hatred and wishes for revenge. I realized now that perhaps I hadn’t wanted Grace to discover my identity partly because I didn’t want to reveal that part of myself to her.

_ Just what does she think of me? _

She spoke pretty words now, but I beat the fluttering in my stomach over her compliments back, reminding myself of her cold eyes on that day. Grace Belloway was not in love with Morgan Eclaire. 

She adored a woman long dead, a woman who had never existed in the first place. A woman with round, brown eyes and black hair. A woman who was demure and reserved, who didn’t abuse her power; in fact, she hid it. 

Self consciously, I tugged on my strawberry-blond locks. 

“Fix your behavior, High Mage, or I’ll get my father to do it for you.” My heart rate skyrocketed as I heard Grace turn, marching smartly out of the room. I panicked. There was no way for me to hide without my magic being sensed, and she was too close for me to run. Pain shot through my chest as I righted myself, closing my eyes and breathing out shakily. I pushed my shoulders back and my head up, glancing up just as Grace exited the office.

She paused infinitesimally before her expression became stone and she walked away, hair swaying as she went.

...

“Just what…” I mumbled to myself, touching my slightly gaping mouth with trembling hands as I tried to process what I had just seen. 

Before the frigidity of her eyes had locked away her expression, I had seen  _ something _ in their whirling depths. Something that wasn’t icy or hate-filled, or even apathetic. Beyond all of my expectations I had seen shock, recognition, and then a haunting gentleness filled with such sorrow it twisted my heart. 

I glanced up at the ceiling, steeling myself. 

_ I think it’s time for this obedient dog to bite. _

Fully five minutes late, I stepped into the office, preparing myself for the difficult decision I had just made. There was no doubt that my next 6 months here would be hell if I carried out this plan, but…

For  _ her _ I had to. 

“You! You’re late,” High Mage Burner seethed, the aftermath of his talk with Grace flaring his temper quite heavily. Normally, I would have gazed at him with flat eyes and offered an insincere apology. If I was a dog, so be it— but now I would not obey the commands of a fake master. 

No, the one I served could be Grace and Grace only.

“I was not under the impression that you had a higher status than me, High Mage Burner,” I replied. The way his veins popped out of his forehead was quite impressive.

“How rude! You’re nothing but a filthy traitor. If it weren’t for that naive child you wouldn’t even be here,” he bit out, spittle flying angrily every which way. I pursed my lips, lifting my chin.

“I’m sure the duke would love to hear what you think of the lady. I should let him know of your critiques.” My threat was not a light one. Anyone who dared to badmouth the duke’s family was quite literally insulting royalty— if he was found out, his punishment would not be light, even if he was a High Mage. He waved me off, his teeth grinding hashly in his rage.

“You’ll tell the duke? Do you think he’ll believe you? ...Ha, it make so much sense now. The only way someone like you would ever be able to get a position such as this would be by sucking the duke’s cock.” He smiled roguishly. “Tell me, how often do you bruise your knees for that bastard?” White-hot anger rushed through me, but I held myself back.

“My apologies that your memory is so fragile; I remember you stating just a moment ago that the lady was the one who appointed me, but now you claim the duke did so.” His glare after my remark was satisfying, but it didn’t quell my wish to punch him in his repugnant face. I knew he was too much of a coward to challenge me to a duel. He knew he would lose. 

“You’re nothing but a dirty whore, don’t get smart with me.”

“High Mage Burner, would you like for me to call you a doctor? It seems your memory really is failing, that you can’t even remember who I am. I am the High Mage that the lady appointed, one who serves royalty just as you do. If you have any issue with me, you must resolve it honorably,” I said, low. I would roll on my back for him no longer, now that I realized just what Grace had done.

She didn’t hate me— no, if she did, she would not have defended me. If she did, she would not have bent over backward to give me the title of High Mage in the first place. It was not an easy title to give, even out of revenge.

The title itself was enough to be a stab in the back for anyone in the Eclaire family— to serve the ones who betrayed us. But Grace… she didn’t have hatred in her eyes when she saw me. In that brief second, she had looked at me with the tenderness she reserved only for Olivia. 

Even if she was the duke’s daughter, appointing someone as High Mage was no simple matter. Nevertheless appointing a known traitor for the position; that was near impossible, especially since she wasn’t the duke. If she had gone through all the impossibilities, all the trouble, just to grant me a high enough position to save me from being exiled…

“If you have an issue with me, do  _ not _ trouble the lady with it,” I said finally, stepping out of the room in the same neat manner I had wished to do thousands of times since my employment began. This time, instead of hiding it, I let my mana run free. It brushed past my arms and legs like a cool taste of freedom, and I could feel it cling heavily to the walls. I held nothing back, let High Mage Burner feel my power. I had no doubt it strung, that it seeped into his body and expanded inside his bones like a million tiny needles.

I had yet to meet another mage at this residence that surpassed me in power, and he was no exception. With this, I hoped he would not bother me again.

Even the dumbest of beasts had some sense of self-preservation, after all. 


	12. knights of honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they notice things about one another.

I took it back. High Mage Burner was not a beast, but less than one. He had completely ignored my threats, continuing to treat me like his personal secretary. I ignored all of his inane requests and the glares of the maids he had sent as messengers, rebuffing any of their insults with the heavy weight of my powerful mana. It would be a long time, perhaps eternity, before they respected me, but I at least hoped that they would fear me enough to carry out my tasks.

I knew my worth in their eyes of that of a criminal and I did not ask for their trust. But I wanted to help Grace in whatever way I could, and to do that I needed to actually act as a High Mage. 

“This is a hell of a lot of work, though,” I grumbled to myself as I rummaged through the pile of papers messily splayed atop my brand-new office desk. Well, new to me.

Apparently, Grace had arranged an office for me— one with a gorgeous view of the courtyard. The maids had just ‘forgotten’ to inform me about it.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I gazed out the window, the flowers blooming in the courtyard reminiscent of the days I acted as Olivia in the academy. They were a deep, deep blue, a wild array of wildflowers instead of sophisticated blossoms you might usually see at a duke’s mansion. I hadn’t seen them before the day I rebuffed High Mage Burner in his office, too apathetic of my situation to care about something like a garden. My depression upon receiving my position had only been exacerbated by the workers’ cruel treatment-- I had lost joy in even the rising sun. 

And now…

And now the sight was beautiful, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many strings Grace had pulled to give such a gift to me.

_ You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you were clinging onto your memories with Grace during those times.  _

But how could I not? My time with her was filled with such unadulterated joy, it was all my mind could do to protect itself from the horrors of my reality. The thought that she had hated me, that her father had betrayed me, mocked my father by granting me the title of High Mage. The immense pain I had felt after losing my job, losing everything I had ever made for myself— the pain of being stabbed in the back by one who I thought had been a friend. The pain I felt from Grace’s rejection the day she found out who I was.

I lived like a robot, never crying— no, I was grieving far too much to cry— carrying out tasks in an apathetic manner. It was only once I found Grace’s letters, relived my memories with her, that I began to feel alive in the prick of tears lacing my eyes. 

I could not help the hope that sprouted within me when I saw her expression that day. It was foolish, I knew. I should be angry, furious at her actions, that she would even think to do such a thing.

But I was weak when it came to Grace, and she had once again become an exception to my hatred and thoughts of revenge.

_ If it’s her, there’s no way she would have known that giving me my position would be worse than the deepest form of betrayal. _

…Right?

I squeezed my eyelids shut. No, now was not the time to be thinking such things. For now I needed to build up my reputation, complete tasks as a normal High Mage would. 

Still, there was a problem.

High Mage Burner was currently in charge of all of the tasks concerning the defense of the duchy, and there was no easy way to strip them from him. Sure, I could challenge him to a duel, but that was only for honor. The maids and nobles knew I was more powerful than him, they just didn’t care.

I could rebel, but that would only cause trouble for my benefactor, Grace. I didn’t want people to look down on her anymore than they already did for choosing me. She was in a delicate position, and she needed all the help she could get.

The issue was that there was only one way to receive tasks concerning the duties of a High Mage if I didn’t want to go through High Mage Burner. And that was to receive my orders directly from the top.

Generally, a High Mage was in a high enough position to create their own work, so to speak. But if I wanted to gain a reputation, I needed to do something big, fast. And the only way to do something that colossal by myself— as I could not depend on the other workers to follow my orders— was to get explicit permission from a member of the duchy to complete a reconnaissance mission.

I needed to root myself so deeply into them that they wouldn’t be able to function without me-- only then would Grace have the leverage she needed, because I would not stay in a residence where she did not reign.

I buried my head in my hands.

“You can do this, Morgan. You can do this.”

Because Grace was technically my boss, I would have to go directly to her for any sort of permission.

I let a low groan out into my hands.  _ Damnit.  _

**...**

_ “There is strength in mercy, my daughter. Please remember…” _

I awoke with a gasp, sweat dripping prickly teardrops down my forehead. I rubbed my eyes harshly, fisting my hand against the cool wood of my desk. Blearily, I glanced at the nest of papers that had acted as my pillow, glaring at their twisting words from underneath the hand that cupped my face along the bridge of my eyebrows. 

“What a way to wake up,” I muttered to myself, though there was no real malice to my words. That dream had begun to haunt me nightly in the weeks following my run-in with Grace. It was always the same— my father, covered in blood, begging me with broken, kind words. The same thing, every time. 

_ “There is strength in mercy, my daughter.”  _

I couldn’t help but feel that there was something missing every time I woke up from it; despite remembering the dream with perfect clarity, it felt as if something was missing. But no matter how I tried, I could not remember a thing that occurred after his final words to me:

_ There is strength in mercy, my daughter. _

Had he said something more back then?

Not that it mattered, I mused as I sat back in my chair. My father was the most beautiful of fools, too forgiving, too headstrong, too stubborn… too willing to give himself up for the wellbeing of others, fair and true. I cursed myself as another image started to manifest at the thoughts.

_ Yes, he was just like her.  _

“Damn,” I whispered, helplessly, “I pray for the day I’m able to form a coherent thought without her interrupting it.” I didn’t have even the tiniest bit of faith that it would happen. 

I attempted to gather my fleeing thoughts as I approached the room I knew she’d be in. 

In the weeks leading up to today, I had spent countless hours organizing documents, tying up loose ends, and disciplining the servants and other workers in the mansion who refused to listen to me or treat me with the respect someone of my stature would normally receive. I felt a little bit bad flaunting my title, but I had it for a reason.

They needed to understand that they were not above me. In fact, I had the authority to destroy their lives, if I so wished; the power a High Mage was given was massive.

Of course, that would mean I had to have power in the first place. As I was now, I had hardly more authority than an average defense mage. I was a High Mage in name, nothing more.

Unfortunately, if I wanted to be useful to Grace I needed to be more than that. 

“So be it,” I declared, quietly, “I will do what I must.” I would not tolerate disrespect any longer. I took a deep breath, though it escaped me quickly when I heard a voice speak from behind me.

“And what is it that you must do?”

It felt as if all of my organs flipped in my stomach, my heart rate skyrocketing, as I heard her voice. My chest panged painfully, my body suddenly feeling as heavy as lead. I turned, straightening myself— though I knew my posture was already perfect— and smiling cordially. It strained, however, when I saw her face.

A quick, silent breath escaped me. At that moment, it was as if my lungs and heart had filled with stinging water, drowning me alive. My head dipped in greeting.

“My lady,” I said, and I was relieved that my voice sounded normal. She nodded back, though her expression didn’t change. 

This was wrong.

The usual Grace didn’t look like this, didn’t pause instead of reply to a greeting. The usual Grace would smile, too polite, too fair, give a greeting that offered neither favor nor disrespect. In the hallways I had seen her in-- and thereafter escaped before she noticed-- she was perfect. Her face was serene, masterfully painted with a content dutifulness. Her laugh at a maid’s compliments or a noble’s boasts was light, impersonal yet pleasant. This Grace was not the usual Grace, the Grace that Morgan Eclaire had been presented with every day as she taught in the classroom.

No, this heart-wrenching despair could only belong to Olivia’s Grace, to my Grace.

She turned, opening the door to her office with tempered movement. I resisted the urge to bite my lip, and though every part of me screamed to comfort the woman in front of me, my body stayed tight and professional. 

_ Why are you here?  _ I wanted her to ask. 

_ I’m here because I need you, _ I would tell her.  _ I’m here because I can’t think straight when I’m not with you. I’m here because I can’t think straight when I am with you. I’m here because you fill my every thought, breath, and word; every song I hear is of you, every bite I take has your taste, and every flower I smell has the scent and gleam of your hair. _

Nothing, she said instead.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” I said instead. Gone was her vulnerable expression, and I wondered briefly if it was because I did not take advantage of it while I could.

But how could I? 

Maybe if she was not Grace Belloway, the blood of the man who killed my father and mother. Maybe if I was not Morgan Eclaire, the cruel and wild prodigy who still could not be free of old ghosts, of desire for revenge. If she were not pure as snow, blanketing the world with her benevolence and beauty, and if I were not one who could do nothing but leave crude footsteps in it, ruin the view. I could not be by her side.

Her eyes were shielded, weary, as they turned onto me. Finally, she spoke.

“I received your request. You wish to visit South of the territory?” It wasn’t a question as much as it was a statement. I dipped my head in reply.

“Yes, my lady.” She sighed.

“I understand, High Mage Eclaire, why you wish to do so, but…” She trailed off. Something in her voice sounded frustrated. She hesitated. I glanced up at her, mildly confused.

“There’s been news of revolt, my lady. It’s my duty as the High Mage you appointed to defend the duchy.” She flinched at my tone, monotone and professional.

_ Dammit, Morgan. You’re supposed to make her feel better, not offend her.  _ But, despite all my best efforts, I couldn’t loosen my posture or my voice. Somehow, as Olivia, I had been able to act more freely. But as Morgan, I could not bring myself to break the walls I had spent years building up.

_ You’re just afraid you’ll go back to the way you were, that you’ll end up disappointing Grace,  _ a voice inside of me taunted. I bit back the thought. 

“This isn’t something…” She tried again, but seemed to catch herself before she continued.

Indeed, this was not something a High Mage usually concerned herself with. But my unique position at the bottom of the food chain meant I needed to build up my reputation before nobles and staff would trust me enough to begin actually delegating tasks to me. I had to seek out my own work.

It was fine with me. I didn’t care either way.

“Is there a problem, Lady Belloway?” I asked. “I assure you I’ve prepared adequately. Is there something I’ve overlooked about this matter?” 

“No, no, everything is perfect. As I expected of you, really,” the last part was tacked on as a low mutter, and I wondered if she had meant to say it aloud. “I am merely…” Again, she seemed to be struggling to speak, as if she were carefully picking her words.

It didn’t come to me as a surprise; I was doing the same.

Still, to see her acting this way, tripping all over herself when the normal Grace would be eloquent and charming, made my heart throb painfully in my chest. She appeared almost flustered. I stayed quiet to let her collect her thoughts. Finally, she seemed to settle on the right words.

“I hope you’ll consider taking an escort,” she said.

“I’m not sure what you mean, my lady,” I replied carefully. A High Mage was not a person who required an escort— I was not nobility nor a rich young lady. 

“I don’t mean as a supervisor, of course. I mean for your safety. It would make me feel better. Ah, as your employer,” she added hastily. I stayed quiet for a moment, examining her. Her expression was stiff, cold, but her eyes held conflict in them.

“Pardon my rudeness, my lady, but I don’t believe there would be anyone willing to act as my guard,” I rebutted, gauging her reaction. Impressive as always, her face did not move as she replied.

“It would not be a problem if one who passed the Knight’s Examination accompanied you, however,” she began cooly. I nodded, a little confused at her terminology. Why  _ one who passed the Knight’s Examination _ and not  _ a Knight _ ?

“That is correct, my lady,” I replied.

“I understand that you are very powerful. But it’s best to be careful in times like these, and I would not be much of a benefactor if I let any of my workers head off into danger by themselves.” Despite the polite monotone of her voice, I could see from the bunching of her shoulders that she was anxious. She tended to hold herself in a certain way when she was stressed, I had noticed after spending so much time with her as Olivia. 

_ Bad thoughts,  _ I scolded myself.

“As you wish, my lady. I will take someone with me to the South,” I amended. I expected her to agree right away, but she paused instead, her shoulders tensing further.

“…Then I shall accompany you myself. I may not be a knight, but I have indeed passed the Knight’s Examination.” 

This time, I could not control the widening of my eyes as my knees threatened to give way from beneath me. She wished to be my escort?

There was no way.

“My lady, pardon me for saying so, but I cannot be escorted by someone of a higher social class-- especially yours-- even for mere formalities.” Grace’s shoulder seemed to sag a bit at this, as if she knew I was going to rebuff her all along. “However,” I found myself saying, almost against my own will, “if my lady has found some sort of… business to settle in the town nearby the location of my venture, perhaps then she would be able to accompany me, I as her escort.”

At this Grace straightened once more, her face showing none of the relief I wondered if she felt, and she smiled in a manner I could not quite comprehend.

A smile that travelled through me like a fire-tipped arrow.

“Indeed,” she allowed, “I do have business. ...But you shall not be my escort; we will bring the duchal guards.” 

I saluted her. “As you wish, my lady.”

**...**

We set out at dawn the following week. I had not seen Grace since our conversation, I was busy with preparation for my trip and she was busy preparing to be away from her duties. I had been, begrudgingly, informed by a maid that her father had begun to place her in charge of various matters— though the maid seemed reluctant to tell me what— in the expectation of her graduation in a few month’s time.

It was winter, I realized as she spoke, and she indeed would graduate in the Spring’s thaw. May and Elizabeth flickered through my mind— I hoped they were well. I had been trying to keep up on news of the Academy, but the security was very tight. It was probably easier to get information on the King’s bedtime routine than it was to learn anything that occured within the Academy’s walls.

Staffed by what the common people perceived as monsters, it was a steel trap.

A small pang of homesickness pulsed in my chest at the thought.

_ No, Morgan, you can’t think like that, _ I scolded myself, your time there is over.  _ You can never go back. _

No, I could never go back to that place. Even if, by some miracle, the whole world forgot my name and I was able to regain my past reputation, she would never allow it. Not while the crown rested in her palms.

Still, a small part of me wanted to see the flowers in the courtyard that matched Grace’s eyes oh-so-closely once more.

My eyes moved to the small figure in front of me, her blue blue eyes squinting with characteristic focus on the stack of papers before her. She looked regal, her shoulders pulled back and her back rod-straight as her head tilted down slightly and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She seemed more delicate than usual, sitting like this. My fingers twitched at my sides as I restrained my desire to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind the curving edge of her ear.

We sat like that, blanketed in an oddly stifling silence, for a long time. Though before I felt nothing but ease at her side, I could sense the vague discomfort both of us were emitting in each other’s presence. 

The pain of her rejection weighed on my mind as I tried not to look at her. Annoyingly, I realized I had been counting the number of times she glanced up to look at me.

Zero.

Despite her odd vulnerability that day in the office, she had been nothing but cool and professional today. Her eyes were icy in the brief moments they regarded me as we boarded the small carriage we now sat in. I was impressed by her impeccable posture, though— I was sure my own was fine, but after sitting in the same place for hours on end in a rocking box I could feel my lower back start to ache. 

It was stifling, and I wanted to touch her face so badly in the proximity I thought I might scream.

A knock sounded at the door, a clear rapping, and I could feel my body tense as I readied my mana in the event of an attack. 

“You may speak,” Grace allowed, and I felt myself relax at her words. A second passed, then the door creaked open slowly. I was acutely aware of Grace’s head tip, as if she were listening to something, though I could not hear what. Grace replied to the not-silence shortly, her lips curving into the words ‘understood,’ and then the door was shut and the air was still once again.

I recognized that she must have used magic so I couldn’t hear her conversation, and that annoying pang rippled through me once again. Though I certainly didn’t deserve it, I realized I desired Grace’s trust. It was clear now that I did not have it.

I had just begun to let the rocking of the carriage lull me into my thoughts once again when I felt the squeal of horses as the compartment came to an abrupt stop. Immediately my eyes went to Grace, to read her cool eyes and find relief in the realization that she had probably expected this, too, but I saw the slightest bit of startle instead. At that I shot up, placing my body in front of her as I opened the door with my magic. 

I heard the knights shout at me as I streamed forward, surveying the scene around me.

“We’ll take care of this,” they ordered,  _ ordered _ , and I would have laughed had the situation been any different. It was like a swarm of biting dogs trying to hold down a wolf.

5 offenders, all armed, surrounding the carriage. Surprisingly, one of them carried magic in their form, which set me into full alert.

If this group of what I thought had been rag-tag criminals was powerful enough to have a mage in their midst, we were dealing with something complex.

Something that probably involved Grace’s fight for the duchal seat, and the enemy hope of her demise before she took it. I felt anger blur through my veins and I snapped my hands forward, then down, pressing their delicate bodies into the ground.

“Who are you?” I boomed, trying to ignore the way the knights stared at me in shock.

I was wholly certain that rumors of my power had been stifled by the maids, so it was likely they had thought I was some sort of weak figurehead appointed by Grace-- this was exactly why I didn’t want Grace to act as my escort, because it would only worsen my reputation. 

And…

And I found my stomach tying itself in ripping knots at the thought of Grace putting herself in danger to protect me.

I smiled wickedly, sauntering forward to crouch in front of a man who appeared to be the ringleader.

“Oh, I forgot, this spell doesn’t let you speak. How foolish.” My index finger twitched, loosening the heavy chains of my mana around his head. “Let’s try this again: who are you?”

“I’ll kill you,” the man spat, forehead veins bulging in exertion. I schooled my face, pressing my mana down painfully on his torso.

“You see, I don’t take too kindly when people come to threaten my lady; I recommend you answer my questions.”

“Ratoi!” He bellowed, and in that moment I remembered one crucial factor: the knights.

Knights operated through honor and through power, and though I could see they acknowledged my power my treasonous social standing outweighed that. They had begun to move without my orders, and had used their unique, mana-cancelling weapons to free a struggling boy from my chains. 

The man in front of me laughed heartily as I felt my mana rip away from me forcefully as a knight used his sword to free the last of the magic around the boy, holding him in a lock no ordinary person could escape. They were probably intending to take him into custody.

What they overlooked, however, is that this boy was a disguised mage-- his red eyes and white hair had been obscured by the powerful magic his race held. 

The next moment, I was thrown to the ground as a blood magic wormed its way into my magically-reinforced veins. Searing pain forced its way through my body, and I heard a bell-like shout ring through the clearing. Through the ringing in my head, I realized Grace had left the carriage.

I smiled and fisted a hand, and then everything stopped.

I stood, straightened myself, and time resumed once more, but the still silence that had decorated the air when it was paid survived. 

In front of me, four of the five attackers lay dead, their throats slit by the small bursts of wind I had formed during the seconds time had paused.

The knights had been forced into a kneel before Grace, who stood silently outside the carriage, an embellishment I had decided after their absurd rudeness toward me. They would be released by the voice-sealing magic by the time I had achieved my purpose.

I felt Grace’s gaze on the back of my neck, and tried not to turn toward her.

“Your first mistake,” I let the dead know as I walked toward the boy, “was underestimating the next Duke Belloway.” They could underestimate me, foolish as it was, but looking down on Grace was a fatal mistake. After all, she had managed to catch herself a furious High Mage who would do anything she asked.

The boy was restrained in the air, glaring at me furiously as I approached. I had sealed his magic, and he didn’t have enough physical power to even attempt to struggle; he appeared malnourished, abused, and this was the reason I hadn’t killed him.

“Do you know why I didn’t kill you?” I asked him, not waiting for a reply. “You remind me of myself. Alone, hated, but powerful. Enraged, counting down the days until you can take your revenge, take their lives into your hands and end them.” I released him from his floating restraint, holding his shoulder firmly and pushing him toward where Grace stood, knights still kneeled before her.

She was a sight-- her hair blew wildly around her stone face, crystal blue of her eyes lightened to a radiant shine under the bright sun, holding herself in the royal way she always did. If it had been the first time I had seen her, I would have mistaken her for the Goddess.

“This is your new master,” I told the boy as Grace’s eyes first swarmed over me, my face, my arms, the place where my robes had been dirtied when I fell. “You will serve her, and she will treat you well.”

Finally, Grace’s eyes moved to the boy. He stared up at her, and instantly his fury melted into something between awe and terror. I had seen it before, how others looked at Grace. It might have been her royal blood, but people obeyed her intrinsically-- feared her, respected her, listened to her without ever needing to know who she was. It was as if serving Grace Belloway was the most natural thing in the world to do.

_ The presence of a royal _ .

Grace’s soft voice broke through the stillness like dawn. “You will be fed. You will be clothed. You will no longer be beaten or degraded,” she told him, not a promise but an assertion. Then, she turned to me, her stone gaze unreadable. “But do not be mistaken, it was not I who saved you. I will not be your master.”

I furrowed my eyebrows as she placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, the same place I had, but he didn’t flinch at her touch. 

“My lady…” I started , but she held a hand up to silence me.

“This woman is Morgan Eclaire, High Mage for the duchal territory of Anglesian within the great kingdom of Belland. It is an honor to serve her, so be grateful I have chosen her to be your master.”

She then turned to address the knights, who had long been freed of their silence but still kneeled out of respect of their lady’s honor.

“Heed this, knights! High Mage Belloway was selected for excellence, and I will not tolerate disrespect. Many of you were appointed knights after my father graciously took you in despite your common background, so I am certain you are aware that family background does not affect the competence of a warrior. You will obey her commands as a High Mage, and you will be grateful to be mentored under her excellence.”

The air rang with her voice, with her authority, as she laced her royal magic into every word. I was transfixed.

“Is that understood, knights?”

“Yes, my lady,” a cacophony of voices rung. Grace smiled at the shivering boy beside her, urging him forward.

“Go,” she said. He approached me tentatively, and I steeled my expression.

“Knights,” I spoke, low, turning my glare upon them. “What occurred today was unacceptable. You disobeyed a High Mage appointed by your master, Lady Belloway. You endangered the lady by acting without orders. This behavior will  _ not _ continue, and pray that your punishment may be light when we get to our destination.”

“Yes, High Mage!”

“You are dismissed.”

Goddess, I was tired.

**...**

“Why did you save me?” The boy’s small voice rang through the still air of the small room we were in.

Another day had passed since the incident, and we had managed to reach a small town bordering where our target lie. Grace, despite the sputtering indignance of her knights, had selected a small, poor inn to stay in. She was in a room by herself, the largest the inn had to offer, and the boy I had rescued was staying with me in a room I suspected might  _ actually _ be the largest. Still, it was Grace who selected the rooms, so only Grace knew. 

I played dumb. “How do you mean? I merely spared you; I knew you weren’t working out of your own free will.” The boy glowered at me, and I was slightly impressed at hit guts. Despite everything, despite all he had been through, his eyes held a fire I had once seen in my own long ago. 

He was out for revenge.

For what, and for who, I did not know.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he rebut, “and you know it.” Swiftly, I smiled, straightening myself and flicking two of my fingers together. The boy’s lips sealed together.

“I am your master, and you will address me with respect,” I scolded him gently. “This is not the world you once lived in. You now serve the Duke’s family-- acting with such vulgarity will only bring shame upon my name and upon the lady’s name. I will not tolerate that.” Then, i slid my fingers apart.

“...Understood.”

“And fix your posture,” I barked, the nostalgia of teaching washing over me once more.

_ God, I missed the Academy. _

He straightened his back, silent. I could see the questions burning on his tongue, and was mildly impressed when he didn’t ask them right away.

“Your name?” I asked, knowing the answer. There was no way a child with the Mark of a mage would be given a formal name. He had probably been a slave all his life.

“I do not have one,” he said, yet no shame cluttered his gaze, testimony of his internal strength. I smiled softly back at him.

“Then I will give one to you,” I told him, flexing my mana into the air around us. It swirled, thickening with the contract I had begun between us during the advent of the attack. “I am your master, and you are my apprentice. Your name, Felix, will be proof of our bond. You will serve under me, and I will provide you with wisdom and protection.” I swiped my finger, clotted with the magic of our contract, over his pale forehead. The bond sunk into his skin, pulsing with the red of my mana and fading.

“...Thank you, master,” he said, low, lowering his gaze. 

“Good. You’re a fast learner. Make sure to stay that way, and serve Lady Belloway well.”

“I will serve you well,” he said instead, and I had to stop myself from grinning.  _ Feisty brat. _ I waved him away.

“The bonding ritual is just a formality, don’t pay it any mind. I saved you so that you might be of assistance to the lady, not to me-- I am your master, yes, but orders given by Lady Belloway will take precedence.” 

“I want to serve master,” he fought, eyes still lowed to the ground. His posture was rigid, sure; he wouldn’t give in so easily. I sighed.

“Look at me, brat,” I said, and our gazes met. His red eyes were certain. unmoving. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“...”

“What I did was out of my own volition, and you don’t owe me anything for it.”

“But--”

“Felix,” I warned him. I would have to put him through formal etiquette at some point.

“I respect Lady Belloway,” he said in a rush, as if he were scared I would cut him off again, “I will serve her. I will. But, master, I cannot comply to any orders but your own. You… I…”

I knew what he was thinking. The bond between us was stronger than a regular master-apprentice relationship.

During the attack, when I had paused time, I had noticed two things. One, that the boy was being forced against his will in an enslavement contract. Two, that I could remove it.

The choice hadn’t been difficult.

A curse that strong couldn’t be removed easily or quickly, but as to not endanger Grace I needed to get it off of him as fast as I could. To do that, I managed to transfer the curse to myself by opening a contract with him.

I had been planning on binding him to Grace, have her as his master, but she hadn’t wished for that.

“Ask your question,” I allowed, seating myself in the hard chair lining the corner of the room. Felix stood, rigid, as if he were trying to hid his unease.

“How are you able to…” He didn’t continue.

“An enslavement curse does not work on me,” I explained to him, crossing my legs. “It’s magic is too weak, it gets diluted by my own. It should finally disintegrate after a few months.” Felix’s eyes widened at my statement.

I didn’t blame him. Enslavement magic was extremely strong, impossible to resist to even the strongest of mages. However, I was different.

I had been born with an immensely large pool of mana, and more than that, I could pull mana from outside of my body. Curses had little effect on me.

Still, there were consequences, ones that became increasingly obvious as our days in the town continued.

**...**

Grace had been going into town almost every day, I accompanying her by her side. Today, I had taken Felix with me after disguising his appearance to that of an average little boy.

His eyes were wide with curiosity, and for the first time since I met him he actually  _ looked _ twelve. I was glad I had decided to bring him along.

Grace seemed to have noticed the glee he was trying so hard to conceal because her paces had slowed considerably compared to our earlier outings; it was as if she were letting him take in the view. Once, she picked up a glimmering rock Felix had been staring at, placed a coin on the vendor’s counter, and quickly handed it to Felix after muttering some excuse about ‘researching the properties.’ I had to cough my laugh into my elbow.

Except, when I pulled back, blood dripped down my arm and lips. I hastily wiped it from my mouth, smiling cordially and hiding the ruined cloth of my arm underneath my robes. Grace, a few paces ahead, didn’t seem to notice.

I felt a tug at my robe.

“Master?” Oh lord.

“I am fine,” I assured the boy, placing my hand on his head. He furrowed his eyebrows together. “This will only persist until the curse disappears. It is not lethal, nor does it hurt me.” It was a small lie.

Truthfully, a large amount of my mana was being used to combat the curse. This meant I had a smaller pool of magic than usual to work with. It would have been fine, but I was using strong appearance-altering magic on Felix so my body was a little fatigued. Still, it wasn’t an issue.

Where the real problem laid was with the blow I had taken from Felix that day. He may have been young, but he had potent blood running through his veins. Normally, a wound like that would have healed quickly, but because of the enslavement curse its healing had been severely stunted.

Pain shot through my body with almost every step I took, but using numbing magic would only limit the amount of magic I could use at a time further.

It sucked, honestly; my whole body had been in pain since the incident. But I couldn’t compromise Felix, and I especially couldn’t compromise Grace by using up all of my magic in case an emergency happened. I would just… lay in bed whenever I had the chance.

I scoffed.  _ Yeah, right _ . I was too busy to rest. Besides my daily excursions with Grace to stake out the town, my time was filled communicating with the leaders of the town concerning a generous magical deposit I knew lay undiscovered right outside the forest limits. And, on top of that, I was working with Grace in an attempt to quell the uprisings that had been occurring in the city next door.

So I swallowed my pain like I had done so many times before; I was a professional, an ex-professor, one of the most powerful mages in the continent. I would be fine.

The whole trip had been awkward, to say the very least, what with Grace acting professional and dismissive to me and I a proper servant to her. Felix seemed less enthusiastic than he was at the beginning and had been glancing at me quite often.

It was adorable-- like a feral cat who only opened up to his owner. He was very prickly around everyone else.

The next few days passed swiftly, Grace and I keeping ourselves busy with our various tasks. I had been meeting with officials of the town as well of the rioting town over, attempting to cover my bases.

“A barrier, you say?”

“Yes,” I said to the man across from me. He was burly, a deep red beard wrapping around his face. “I’m sure you’ve received reports that mappers have been unable to profile the area.”

He paused. “We have, yes-- but we always just overlooked it. The forest is dangerous at night anyway, so it's best to just block it off from the village.”

“That’s certainly a good idea,” I agreed with him, leaning forward on my elbows. “But, you see, I have a way to lift that barrier.”

He waved me off. “Don’t bother-- that kind of magic power would cost billions of gold. Belland may be a country with incredibly magical prowess, but our village can’t afford such a sum to hire the hundreds of mages it would require.”

“Even if I told you the ore contained within it could sustain the dukedom for almost fifty years after only a year of production?” He stopped, eyes blooming wide.

“Y-you certainly don’t mean that…”

It seemed impossible-- the dukedom was extremely rich, but not excessively. If a small village like this was able to get ahold of such large amounts of money through a mining operation it could transform itself into a thriving metropolis. A poor man’s fantasy.

“I do,” I let him know, and then waved Felix forward. He bowed carefully before spreading a map of the forest before the man and I.

“How did you… how did you get such an accurate map?” The man was flabbergasted, his eyes roving the delicate lines of the paper.

“It matters not,” I dismissed him, “look here.” My finger landed upon a small marked point on the map, deep within the woods.

“Is that where the ore is?”

“Indeed. I plan on venturing there in a week’s time in order to lift the seal.”

“A-a week? That’s hardly enough time to assemble a large number of mages. Besides, our village still can’t afford…” I cut him off.

“I will do it myself.”

“P-pardon?”

“My master will not repeat herself,” Felix snapped, rolling the map back up and glaring at the man. He looked helplessly between me and my apprentice, finally contenting a sigh and lifting his hand to massage his temples. 

“Fine. Do what you will. I assume you want compensation if you are indeed to lift that seal?” I could tell he still didn’t believe me, but I ignored his tone. It would be for naught in a week’s time, anyway. Instead, I flicked my fingers.

A large contract written in the swirling red of my mana slipped through the air, landing before him.

“This is a contract. Read it carefully. In exchange for lifting the seal, you will remain loyal to Lady Grace Belloway and Lady Grace Belloway only; the mine will be hers, not the village’s. In return, you will receive the benefits of employment the mine will bring as well as protection once she receives the duchy.”

“...Fine,” he assented, staring at the floating document with comically large eyes. “How do I…?” 

Even in the country of Belland, the majority of commoners and even nobility had never witnessed magic before. This was something he would brag about to his children later, probably.

“Give your verbal consent,” I instructed. He stated his name and his agreement and then it was done, and the document disappeared. I stood.

“S-so--”

“I will get in touch with you,” I told him.

“But--” He was cut off again with a sharp glare from Felix, and then we were gone.

**...**

I had been going behind Grace’s back a bit when it came to the royal knights. When she was asleep I’d sneak out, and they’d be assembled as per my orders. The first day a few had been missing-- I’d dragged them out and punished them in front of everyone.

No one was late anymore.

They stood stiff as a board in front of me, the leader stepping forward and saluting.

“GREETINGS, HIGH MAGE,” came the cacophony of knights. I smiled.

“The lady is sleeping-- with voices like that, you’re bound to wake the whole town. Be more conscientious.”

“YES MA’AM,” the leader chirped, quieter this time, eyes forward in the traditional pose of attention.

“You know what to do, Knight Rhy. I’ll be observing again.” Every night I had been putting the knights through strict training.

It wasn’t that they weren’t well-trained, in fact, they were some of the most well honed warriors in the kingdom.

But to be useful to Grace, they needed to be better than the best.

I had been putting them through thorough training-- hell-like physical training in the fields east of the in, rigorous information and field operation training, as well as magical protection and discipline. 

“Knight!” I barked, remembering his slightly lower scores-- though still exceptional-- from the last information seminar. “Remember those you serve! You will excel for the lady and for your country, and above all else, for your comrades; I expect to see you achieving the highest scores of the night.”

“YES MA’AM,” more than a few knights chorused. It was good to know that they were looking out for each other.

…

The next morning, I found Grace at the field that knights had been training in last night. Mud formed shapes of boots and hands from drill.

“Good morning, my lady. What brings you out here so early?”

She stared forward, surveying the scene. Then, she turned.

“Good work,” was all she said. I smiled-- of course she would notice the change in the demeanor of the knights over the past few days. I was a little impressed she had realized it was my doing.

She placed a hand on my shoulder as she passed me, nodding once, and all of a sudden my knees felt like they might buckle. The energy between our bodies was electric, prickling between her fingertips and my shoulder. I forced a smile on my face as she lifted her hand, willing my racing heart to still. I could see her form, slender and powerful underneath her royal clothing, her cold eyes not meeting mine, beautiful and shimmering in the light of the rising morning sun. Her fanning out across her back like a curtain of silver.

“Grace,” I found myself saying against my will. Her eyes moved to meet mine, and I almost fell backward at the intense emotions blooming from the simple action of her eyes meeting mine.

She looked cool and professional, as always.

With her eyes staring so directly into mine, like they never did except when I was Olivia, I felt like a drowning man tasting the salty air after the sea breaks over his face. I realized then how addicted I was to the feeling of Oliva  _ seeing _ me, really  _ seeing _ me. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Yes?” Was all she said. She didn’t scold me for my lack of respect, using her first name instead of a title.

“I… I hope that my lady knows how much everyone respects her,” I said, truthfully.

She waved a dismissive hand, looking off at the horizon behind me.

“They respect my title-- I have done nothing to garner their respect yet.”

I caught my breath.

“That’s not! That’s not true,” I protested, voice almost at a whisper because of how close we were. I don’t know how it had happened-- one second she was feet away from me, the next our bodies were mere inches apart. She was close enough to touch by bringing my arm forward just a bit. Both of us close to each other, yet consciously keeping distance; it was dizzying.

“Grace, you work exceptionally hard,” I told her, low, “you  _ deserve _ people who know how to serve you. This is… this is nothing compared to what you really deserve.” I stopped, emotion clogging my throat and rendering me useless.

Then she was looking at me again, deep into my eyes, and I couldn’t think anymore.

“Morgan,” she started, carefully, guarded. “I… overheard the conversation between you and Miss Niel.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

I recalled my conversation with Katarina.

_ “You know what’s worse? What’s impossibly worse? The Duke requested I work at his residence as a mage.” My laugh was dark and wet. “After everything, after running my name to the ground, trampling on my father’s innocence once again, after stripping me of my honor and happiness, I am forced to work for the bloodline that sentenced my family to their deaths in the first place.” Katarina froze. _

“I was the one who called for you here,” Grace spoke, her voice cracking into something like regret. “ _ I  _ was the one who made you relive that trauma again. I was the one who forced you back here.”

“Oh Grace,” I said, so low the words barely escaped my lips. She stood firm, strong against everything, but something in the way she held her shoulders upright felt incredibly fragile to me.

“You… sacrificed so much for me. You were forced into this inheritance war by my father, had your life and your career ruined  _ again _ because of it-- had to see my brother, my family,  _ me _ , the very people who… who…” Her perfect mask broke, and without my consent my body  _ moved _ .

I slotted her in my arms, bringing my arms up to rub her back as she whispered her apologies into my ear. She fell against me, clenching her fists against my back and falling silent.

A moment passed.

“You really are the same,” she murmured, so low I wasn’t sure I she had spoken at all.

You really are the same, she had said.  _ Olivia _ . 

Then she pulled back, smiled, and was gone.

I watched her go, eyes tracing over her form before squeezing shut. A cough, and blood dripped down my chin and onto the front of my robe. I turned away.


	13. blood and lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which misunderstandings are remedied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit content is ahead, be warned

After almost a month spent in the small town of Harbore, were meeting with officials in the governing office of the next town over, Jaegere-- the town struggling with commoner uprisings. I knew Grace had been working almost non-stop in preparation, though I hardly knew what for; we both had our separate reasons for coming this far west. 

Of course, mine were because of the plentiful ore deposits just east of Harbore. I needed to give Grace power, affluence, as well as myself the leverage I needed so others couldn’t take away or look down upon my position. I would make myself indispensable to the dukedom in order to keep Grace in power for as long as she wished.

Grace had been meeting with people where I couldn’t see her, frustratingly enough, or using magic to muffle the words she exchanged with aids. Because of this, I wasn’t fully aware of what actions she might take. I could have intercepted, but her magic would alter her to my actions; she wasn’t a weak mana user by any means.

It was for this reason that I was especially nervous, walking with Grace solely at my side, through the slums of the town we were meeting officials in. She had informed me that it was a private matter only she and I were to attend.

With my injury, I was nervous that I couldn’t use my full power to protect her. I was on edge.

Not to mention that, ever since the day at the fields, there was an unmistakable energy crackling between us whenever we got too close. Our fingers, shoulders, faces gravitated towards each other, and often it was all I could do to stop my eyes from flickering down past her nose.

I let a fast breath out, subconsciously moving my hand away from where it had drifted to approach the small of her back as we walked. 

What made things worse was the awkwardness, the wall she had placed between us-- nothing but professionalism was allowed, a coolness that had not allowed me to speak her real name since the day at the field. It hurt to see the apathetic eyes she viewed me with, how utterly disinterested she seemed in me-- and worse, how polite she was being.

I had been getting used to the pain that shot up my legs and through my body with each step I took, courtesy of the vexing curse I had removed from Felix, but today, coupled with my worry for Grace, it seemed worse than usual. I hoped trouble wouldn’t find us as we winded ourselves through the dirty streets.

Grace was amazing. Through her natural charm, poise, and royal magic, she twisted commoners away like a parting wave. All it took was a smile from her, or a polite word, and glares of mistrust or hatred melted into tentative respect and awe. I chuckled to myself as I watched the commoners gape at her with starry eyes, a few staring longer than they needed to.

_ She should set up a meet-and-greet. One dose of Grace and this town will be solved of riots for good,  _ I mused.

“Good afternoon, Lady Belloway, High Mage,” an older man greeted, gray hair parted into gentle waves. I stood, impassive, beside Grace as she nodded toward the man. Just in case, I kept a light hold on my mana. It was tiring, but I couldn’t afford to hold back when I was the only one ensuring her protection.

Not that I would tell Grace that. She was not a fan of my protection and vehemently denied me my rights as an escort the entire trip. I wondered if it was because she didn’t trust me, as the woman who had lied about being Olivia. I supposed I deserved it.

Still, it stung. I flexed my mana, reassured by its weight.

The talk was long and tedious, like politics often tended to be. The man straightened a bit after Grace had called him out on a few of his points, rebutting his claims of a smooth leadership by pointing out periods of over taxation of heightened prices for grain.

Still, ever the professional, she smoothed over his irritation and managed to end negotiations peacefully. In fact, by the end, he was chortling. Only Grace could manage to make a man laugh after stripping him completely of his dignity by pointing out the massive err in his leadership. His people were starving, and riots were a consequence.

I tried to snap out of the haze of my mind long enough to recollect what joke she could have made. It was difficult-- for the entire meeting it felt like cotton had replaced my brain. Only the soft tug of my mana on my fingertips reassured me.

“Good evening, Lady Belloway,” the man greeted as she stood to leave, and I bowed beside her as she greeted him back.

“Let’s go, my lady,” I murmured, eager to go. I had to stop myself again from taking her elbow to lead her out of the room, her presence blurring what little grasp I had on my consciousness even more.

I blinked once, harshly, as we stepped out of the office, and then my head throbbed and I lurched to the side.

“...gan?” A startled voice from beside me, pitch high, worried. It sounded alarmingly like Grace, and I realized through the haze of my mind that it was. I looked down.

Blood stained the bust of my blouse, trickling down my chin in a choking stream. I dosed myself with stabilizing mana in an attempt to straighten myself and wipe the blood away. I turned, tentative, to Grace.

She stared back, eyes wide and horrified as they watched the blood still dripping down my mouth. My stomach felt like a thousand tiny pins had inserted themselves in its lining, the blood coating my throat digging its fiery claws into its rawness.

I gathered a smile, hand still clutching the wall to balance myself.

“Let’s go, my lady,” I urged her forward. She stood ramrod straight, still staring, and I felt a shiver work its way down my spine as her expression turned from one of shock to boiling anger.

“Morgan,” she started, slowly, approaching me much faster than my mental space could handle. Her presence was intoxicating and my knees wobbled, releasing me from my unsure stance. Grace caught me as I toppled sideways and my vision blackened.

When it cleared again I realized how nauseous I was, and acutely, that I was in Grace’s arms. Bridal style. I opened my mouth to protest, face growing hot as my hands flitted about, trying to find a place to rest. She started forward fast and I clutched the material of her shirt in an attempt to keep balance.

When I glanced up her face was staring forward, eyes blazing and muscles in her jaw tight. Another electric shiver worked its way through me, landing uncomfortably close to my core, as I stared helplessly at the rage in her eyes.

“My lady--”

“Don’t.” She warned, voice low and powerful. I closed my mouth.

This was closer to the Grace I missed, I realized. Rather than her blue blue eyes cold with polite apathy, a blizzard, I was more familiar with their heat. Granted, when she looked at Olivia they tended to be… softer than they were right now.

The Grace of right now could make a dragon retreat into it’s scales, I thought wistfully.

“My--” I tried again, lifting my head, only to be hit with a wave of pain and nausea. My head fell back, eyelids closing painfully as I gripped the front of her shirt, burying my head into her neck as I gasped in agony.

_ I must have been using more of my mana than I realized _ , I reflected before realizing what I had just done. Only, a hand kept me from lifting my head back up, securing my face rest on her shoulder. Part of me wanted to see her expression, what she looked like right now, but the other half of me was terrified.

Terrified of what this meant, of falling into her orbit once again only to have it ripped away. I was the dragon, I realized, the one who wanted to curl away and protect herself. 

...

“I…” I tried to say, but nothing could escape my lips beyond that. Grace turned her head attentively at my speech, her eyes searching my face as I struggled to get past the burning blood in my throat and the throbbing in my head, my entire body. I could see my skin as my hands gripped her shirt, pale and clammy, as waves of pain and nausea washed over me. 

I tried to flex my mana, subtly, in order to suppress the dizziness.

Instead, I was wracked with another bout of agony, a strangled gasp of a scream bubbling up from my throat and pounding through my head, lighting my entire body up with red hot torment.

The last thing I saw before the darkness in the back of my eyes consumed me was the uncharacteristic expression of  _ fear _ on Grace’s face.

…

When I woke again it wasn’t in Grace’s arms but on a soft bed. I shot up, massaging my head as the blood rushed to it, and dizzily looked around the room. It was small and looked nothing like the inn we had been staying in. I looked to my right, freezing at what I saw.

Grace sat, staring at me, expression intense and  _ pissed _ as she studied me, searching every part of my visible body. I met her gaze wearily. Her arms were crossed.

_ Goddess, she’s hot when she’s angry _ .

“I’m fine,” was the first thing I thought to blurt, somehow losing all semblance of dignity I had; it seemed that happened a lot around her. With Grace I could be myself, be the Olivia that would never exist to anyone but her. Be the me that had existed before cold metal had wrapped itself around my personality.

She glared at me. I wondered what I looked like to make her expression so conflicted.

“You have a fever,” she told me, blunt words monotone and expression betraying nothing.

Was that what it was? I certainly felt hot. She leaned forward and I fought against another fainting spell as her body closed in proximity to mine.

And then she stopped. This close, I could see the fire blazing in the depths of her eyes as she tried to maintain a stony appearance.

“Y-yes?” I stumbled over my words at her proximity.  _ Goddess _ , she smelled so  _ good _ . Like vanilla and wood and…. Grace.

“How long has this been happening?” She asked me.

“I, uh,” I stuttered, not sure how to answer.

“How. Long. Has. This. Been. Happening.” She articulated, the words drawn out and dipped in an inky blackness.

“Ever since the attack,” I admitted, and her eyes darkened impossibly further. The muscles in her jaw worked and she closed her eyes, leaning back into her chair. 

Then, in a jarring movement, she stood and stormed out of the room. The door shut harder than I was sure she intended. Probably.

I heard muffled voices from the outside as I tried to still my beating heart.

“She says it’s been almost a month.” Grace.

“M-my lady, I don’t…” A male voice, unsteady.

“Can you fix her?”

“...It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, my lady. If… if what you say is true, if she’s really been in that condition for a month, it’s a miracle she’s even conscious; a normal person experiencing that amount of pain would be unable to function, at best a coma,” he explained, his voice high with panic.

“And at worst?” Grace’s demanding tone.

“...”

A pause.

“Right. Thank you, doctor,” she said, sounding anything but grateful. This wasn’t like the usual Grace, the epitome of polite tranquility.

The door handle turned, and I flinched. But the door opened slowly, gently. When Grace’s face came back into view, it was completely different-- her perfect mask had slipped on yet again.

I closed my eyes, trying to sort out my thoughts. It was near impossible to do so in her presence, she was so intoxicating.

“My lady, I,” I started, opening my eyes again and watching her carefully as she sat down in her earlier seat.

“Call me Grace,” she said, but it wasn’t an order. I paused, my eyes widening.

Then I looked at her, really  _ looked _ , something I hadn’t allowed myself to do since… 

Since.

She looked exhausted. Her eyes were dark with concern, sleeplessness and worry rimming her eyes. Her beautiful silver hair was slightly mussed, shirt speckled with blood from where my mouth had been pressed against her shoulder.

I felt my face heat again as I recalled that moment, how close I had been to her.

“Grace,” I started again, and something  _ shifted _ between us. I found myself gravitating toward her, my words dimming to a whisper. “I’m grateful that you brought me to work for you.”

At this her facade cracked slightly, eyes widening imperceptibly before narrowing again. She stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

“I… I was upset at first, but more than anything I was-- I was grateful to see you again,” I admitted, my voice cracking slightly as tears pricked at my eyes. I blinked harshly, realizing that the distance between us had once again closed. She leaned forward as my hands gripped the bed sheets tightly, tracing circles lightly on my palm. She brought her other hand up to press my forehead against her collarbone, resting her chin on my head. I realized I was shaking as she rubbed soothing circles on the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry for treating you the way I did that day,” she finally said, lifting her palm to push away my mussed hair and rest on my cheek.

I spoke into her collarbone. “I’m sorry for deceiving you,” I replied.

“It was my father’s fault, not yours. You were… you were only following orders, just as I was.”

“I could have told you,” I insisted.

“I think I already knew,” she admitted, “but something… stopped me from really realizing it. I wanted to believe, even when I knew something was wrong.”

“I made you the heir.”

“I know,” she said.

“Do you want to become duke?”

“I want to protect my people,” she said, a flawless answer.

“Grace,” I started again, but didn’t know what to say. I searched her eyes.

“Do you know what you look like right now? What expression you have on your face?” She said, a low tone reserved for lovers and secret conversations, and I shook my head.

“I…”

“Do you know what I thought when I saw you like that? Coughing up blood and barely standing?” She said, a hardness I had never heard before entering her voice.

It seemed there were still sides of Grace I had never seen before, even as Olivia. I tried not to tremble in anticipation as her face approached mine, severe and filled with anger.

“I’m sorry,” was all I thought to say.

“I wonder, how exactly should I punish you, as your superior, for withholding such information from me?” She threatened, voice dipping into dark places that shot straight through me. I clenched my free hand into the soft material of her shirt as she pulled me closer, harshly, eyes dancing with an emotion I wasn’t sure I had it in me to name. 

Our breath mingled together in our closeness. Our noses bumped together as I tried to look closer at her, and then she pushed me backward onto the bed and we were kissing.

Her lips met mine in a flurry of heat and anger and worry, pouring their fire into me, heating me to my core. She grasped my wrists, pinning them over my head with one of her hands as the other explored my cheek, my cheek, the side of my stomach. I gasped when her hand slipped under my shirt, sending hot electricity though my body, and she took the opportunity to deepen our kiss.

I was left dizzy by her consuming ferocity, every movement of her tongue against mine sending waves of pleasure through my body. She gripped my side harshly, pulling my body against hers. I wrapped my legs around her waist as her hand roamed under my shirt, farther and farther up.

She broke our kiss, leaving me panting for air as she moved her lips to leave searing marks down the side of my neck, biting and sucking. My wrists pushed against her hand as I bucked, gasps of pleasure escaping me as she worked her way down my neck. Her bruising grip on my wrists tightened as she pulled the material of my shirt and bra up, exposing my nipples to the cold air of the room.

She moved her lips from my neck to my breasts, hand travelling further down my stomach and sending electric pulses of pleasure through my body and to my core. When her hand touched in between my thighs, the moan I had been trying to restrain broke past my lips.

She flicked her tongue on my nipple, and I arched my back, waves of pleasure overwhelming me.

“Grace, I… please,” I begged, another strangled moan escaping me when she pushed past my underwear and brushed against the sensitive area between my thighs. She quickened her pace, finally releasing my wrists as I squirmed in pleasure beneath me.

Then she stopped, and I couldn’t restrain the low whine that escaped me. She stared at me, eyes hooded, pupils dilated, and then dipped her head between my legs and I started as I felt the warmth of her tongue lap at me.

“A-ah, Grace,” I moaned, hands gripping the pale softness of her hair as she moved her tongue in tantalizing patterns around me. Then, she moved a hand to rub at my bud, dipping her tongue deep into my core. I gasped, bucking my hips up as she moved her fingers fast, licking ruthlessly at my walls.

I squeezed my eyes shut, toes curling as pleasure overwhelmed me, gripping at her hair as she resumed her relentless assault.

Then it all became too much, and I felt white enter my vision as my body spasmed, pleasure peaking and moans escaping my trembling lips. When Grace finally pulled back, I was a shaky mess.

Her face was slightly wet, cheeks settled with a slight red from heat and pupils blown, was a sight like nothing else. Her hair was tossed back and her expression darkened with lust as she dragged her gaze over my wrecked appearance. I felt emotion squeeze at me.

“Gr--” I tried to start, suddenly dizzy again. She pulled back, climbing off the bed in favor of the chair at my bedside again. Pressing her forehead to mine, she hummed.

“Still have a fever,” she relayed, moving the sheets back over me. “I’ll be right back. I need to get a cloth and some cold water.”

I didn’t manage to stay awake long enough to see her get back, and as my consciousness faded I couldn’t stop the memory of what had just happened from playing in my mind.

_ Just what does she think of me? _


End file.
